Matou Shinji and the Master of Death
by AlfheimWanderer
Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Arthur Weasley struggles as the new Charms Professor. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven by eerie dreams bleeding into waking, Matou Shinji starts down a dark and dangerous path...
1. A Leap of Faith

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Arthur Weasley struggles to fit in as the new Charms Professor. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven by eerie dreams bleeding into wakefulness, Matou Shinji starts down a dark and dangerous path.

* * *

 **Chapter 1.** _A Leap of Faith_

Through the chill night air he ran, black robes billowing behind him as his feet pounded the ground, his legs – and lungs – and heart – all crying out for mercy, for him to _stop_.

But he could not.

Even now, his pursuers were gaining, their howls and snarls and bays coming closer despite his reckless pace, their very presence reeking of _wrongness,_ wounds in the world that had not been – could not be – healed. He'd discovered them in the stronghold of his enemies – but he'd been discovered in turn, for stealth meant nothing to those who were not blinded by patterns and false seemings, but could sense the world as it truly was.

Magic – well, most magic – fed them.

Emotion strengthened them – fear, anger, hatred…despair – and more.

And despite his attempts to dampen his revulsion, he hadn't fully succeeded. Not when the very ground shook beneath his feet, the cavern around him collapsing as he ran. His wand was in his hand, but no Freezing Charm would stabilize the ground beneath him.

Not that he had time – or breath – to cast such a spell.

They were gaining.

But then, that was natural. After all, this corrupted temple to things long past, lit by eldritch fires that had burned long before the age of man, was their home, and he was an intruder. Humans liked to forget that there were beings on this earth long before they arose, beings that they had intermingled with, learned from, fought – beings that in some cases lingered on in their genetic memories and the blueprint of their souls.

 _Sch! Sch! Sch! Scht!_

The earth was cracking beneath his feet, with molten darkness seeping up, whispering seductive promises of power to distract and waylay him. But he dared not stop, knowing the danger of being consumed, of the _things_ behind him.

He could not even call them creatures, really, even if they took on familiar shapes, like wolves, birds of prey, or vast worms which burrowed through the earth, things of shadow and night which hungered only to _destroy._

' _The exit…!'_

Yes. There it was.

Ahead of him hung a silver glow that promised some semblance of salvation if he could only reach it, but there was so little time. Everything was coming undone, falling to pieces.

 _No._

With his heart pounding in his chest from the exertion and the scrabbling of claws on stone echoing behind him, he poured every last bit of energy into his legs, desperate for just a little more speed, a little more distance, before everything fell apart.

 _There!_

With a surge of exultation, he burst into the open – only to skid to a halt as he saw that he was running straight towards the edge of a precipice, below which there was only darkness. The watery moon hung high in the sky above, with a shooting star flashing down into the abyss below.

And behind him, there was a _crash_ , followed by a sibilant hissing, with the hooded figure barely lunging out of the way of a great worm that burst from the ground, rows and rows of vicious teeth dripping with corrosive darkness.

Darkness behind and darkness before.

The decision was no decision at all. With his instincts screaming at him to run, he took a breath, put one foot in front of the other, and took a leap of faith.

* * *

Sometime later, Matou Shinji awakened into a world of hurt, with nothing spared or left untouched. His ears were ringing, his vision was a blur, and every inch of his body hummed with pain. And around him, the world was spinning…rocking…swaying back and forth at least.

' _Feathers, falling into darkness…'_

That was the last thing he remembered before he'd lost consciousness, but how…?

"You are awake then, Matou?" a voice spoke from behind him. A…female voice? "Good."

"…ugh…"

He was standing, or at least he thought he was standing, but he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet, only something tight around his ankles and wrists, digging painfully into his skin through the fabric of his pants.

"Lower," the voice commanded. "Gently."

And whatever ensnared him complied, lowering him to the ground, where his vision began to clear.

"You do not seem excessively injured," the voice said again, as a bespectacled young woman loomed over him, her black hair falling like silk about her shoulders, her hands glowing with warm amber light.

Sajyou Ayaka, apprentice to the five-tailed _kitsune_ Kaiduka Shiosai.

His current training partner, since he had chosen to focus on his yin affinity – the part of him more aligned with destruction and decay – as opposed to elemental ofuda in general. Given some of the difficulties he'd experienced when attempting to use water and earth, and the relative ease with which he was able to conjure up darkness, he thought gaining a semblance of control over this power might be advisable, so it wouldn't bleed into everything else he did.

The kitsune had agreed, and had tasked his less-than-amused apprentice with training the boy in these affinities. Sajyou Ayaka hadn't made any verbal protest, acquiescing to her Master's request as she had so many others, but there was something _off_ about actions, something stiff. Granted, she did work with him in understanding and harnessing his natural affinities, and he had learned much…but it seemed this was the first time she'd had to teach someone, or to duel with someone less skilled, as she hadn't held back at all.

"…you're a Witch, right?" he'd asked, wanting to be sure, since he hadn't ever seen her with a wand, unlike most of the school's students.

"Not in the way you mean, but yes," the other had answered enigmatically.

And then the duel had begun, with Matou Shinji quickly finding himself overwhelmed by the viciousness of her onslaught.

Wave after wave of feather-like darts, shredding his ofuda, blocking his spells, and rendering any resistance futile.

It wasn't like how Tomas fought, as the puppet was always disciplined, if more than a little contemptuous of the skill of others. It wasn't how Kaiduka fought, obviously holding back against an inferior opponent, displaying a skill level just a hair above what a given trainee was capable of so they could think and adapt, so that victory was never quite _impossible._

It wasn't even how Quirinus Quirrell fought.

The other had injured him far worse with a single word, but that had been very, very deliberate, and there was nothing deliberate about Ayaka's actions. The bespectacled girl's spells always seemed tinged with desperation, as if every battle was a matter of life and death, regardless of who she faced.

It was as if she wasn't fighting him, but something else she saw in his place, something so dangerous that even the slightest hint of resistance needed to be crushed.

"…it's a good thing you're good at healing, or I'd be dead by now," Shinji croaked, though he frowned as the girl flinched at his words. "No, it's not your fault. I was distracted."

'… _well_ , _this time.'_

But that part went unsaid, even if it was true.

After being blasted into the ground over and over again by her feathers, he'd begun to employ the darkness against her. At first, he'd tried obscuring her sight with the dark cloud he'd used against the troll, but she'd just increased the volume of projectiles she sent forth. He'd tried bringing darkness to the room and using his ofuda to stop or blind her, but these were consumed by a deeper darkness.

Finally he'd learned to shape the darkness into a shield that could stand a wave of her projectiles, giving him enough time to move and counterattack…

…or at least he'd thought so until he'd been yanked into the air by vines that had sprung up under him, with other vines unfurling and pulling his body taut, just before a next wave hit, knocking him mercifully unconscious - but not before pain seared through every part of his form.

"…you don't just have a yin affinity, do you?" he asked, noting both her glowing hands and the vines which had bound him, now retracting. "Growth and healing…that's _yang."_

The other's lips tightened as she finished her ministrations and stepped away from the boy.

"…yes," she admitted reluctantly. "It is."

"Rare," Shinji commented, his body groaning in protest as he brushed himself off and rose to his feet, retrieving his wand from where it had fallen on the ground. "Most people are one or the other, your Master said."

"Most," was the eloquent response.

It was hard to get much out of Sajyou Ayaka, even at the best of times. She did her duty, sparred him, gave basic instruction and so forth, but there was little about her that seemed human at all, much unlike Tomas, who definitely had a sense of life to him despite his present inhuman nature.

Though speaking of inhuman beings…

"Where is Kaiduka anyway?" Shinji hadn't seen the _kitsune_ in days, and the self-proclaimed guardian of the City Below generally checked in on his apprentice once a day, normally, so not seeing him at all was rather odd.

"Okushiri Island, Hokkaidō," the bespectacled girl answered. "Helping with relief efforts in the wake of the _tsunami."_

The _tsunami_ that had struck the north in the wake of a massive earthquake (7.7 in magnitude) on July 12, less than a week after the Tanabata celebration, dealing massive damage to Okushiri island and its surrounds.

"Oh," Shinji said. It never would have occurred to him that the _kitsune_ would have an interest in humanitarian work. Neither magecraft nor the Witchcraft of Hogwarts taught people to be anything but selfish, after all. Then again, there _was_ a rather large population of foxes in Hokkaidō. Indeed, one of the two species of foxes native to Japan lived only on that northern island. "…helping humans or _youkai?_ "

There was a moment of silence, and Shinji half wondered if the fox's apprentice would answer at all, but answer she did.

"Whoever he can," she replied at last. "There may be some new youkai in the city soon."

"Surprising."

"Not for a servant of Inari."

* * *

Later that day, Matou Shinji found himself working with his Master as she instructed him in Ancient Runes, a topic in which Aozaki Touko was reasonably well versed, given that she was a visiting Professor at _Mahoutokoro._ Since he had chosen Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as his electives in the coming year, he thought he might as well get a head start on one of the subjects.

That, spending more time with his Master could only be a good thing.

She'd been kind enough to allow him to go to Fuyuki during the winter holidays, instead of following her to Mifune while she undertook the design of an apartment building, but if he didn't show more appreciation and interest in her Craft, he feared she would lose interest.

And so far, what he learned had been quite interesting.

The fact that each rune had power of its own, and could be placed into arrays much like _ofuda_. That runes could be used to strike from a distance by those who know what they were doing, and could be used to raise bounded fields or other such things.

That the faded scar on Harry's forehead, left behind by the Killing Curse so many years ago was _Sowilo_ – the rune of fire – symbolizing the victory of light over darkness, good over evil. That the one on Harry's chest, after the defeat of Quirrell, was _Tiwaz_ , the rune of justice – the sacrifice of the individual for the good of the whole.

And that runes were one of the disciplines that could be used by Witches or Magi for the purposes of enchanting or creating, albeit to somewhat different practical effects, even if the Tower found them to be of little value, since they were a fairly well known mystery, with no secrets left to discover, and practitioners of Witchcraft rarely had the prana to use them to their full capacity.

"So both can use them?"

"Correct, Matou," the magus replied, "because runes have power and purpose independent of the practitioner. As long as you have prana, you can use them."

 _Ah…_

"So that's how you can teach at _Mahoutokoro_ , even though you're not a Witch," Shinji said in realization. He'd been curious about that for quite some time now, but hadn't really found a good opportunity to ask.

"Indeed," the magus commented dryly. "It provides a nice supplement to my retainer from Atlas." She smiled very slightly as she regarded the boy. "Incidentally, Atlas does find runecaft useful on occasion, so it may be worth pursuing in conjunction with your other arts."

"I-I see!"

It was almost comical to her how her provisional apprentice's face seemed to light up at this. He might be skilled at deception and manipulation for his age, but she had many years of experience on him, and had once been so young herself, though it didn't feel like it.

"In any case, Matou, Hijiri informed me that you intend to find a familiar this summer," Aozaki Touko continued, with the boy nodding solemnly as she raised an eyebrow. "And Tomas mentioned that you've been avoiding him."

"…well, he did attack me with a Killing Curse last time we met, Master," Shinji commented, his lips twisting into a frown. "I wish to build up my skills before I face him again."

"Hm. Not unwise, I suppose," she allowed. "As to seeking a familiar, I approve. Be aware, however, that unlike your colleagues who simply buy a familiar from a store, you will likely need to prove yourself to whatever it is you seek to bind – and that whatever contract you finalize is likely to be provisional."

"…I had gathered that much," Shinji admitted, though he could resist a surge of curiosity. "Master, what of your familiar?"

"Oh? The Director of Atlas mentioned him, did she?" Touko questioned, withdrawing one of her cigarettes and lighting it.

"…she did, Master. She mentioned that in all your adventures, he was undefeated."

There was silence for a moment, stretching on into a minute and perhaps yet more, as Touko took a long, long drag.

"All except one," she commented, with her face going still as stone. "After which he wasn't perfect anymore, because he knew pain – because he knew defeat. And to think it was a human who defeated him…"

"A mage?"

"No, not a mage. Just a teenage boy."

Her words were cold, but distant, as if looking far into the past, onto a scene Matou Shinji was not privy to. There was history there, Shinji could tell, but he also knew that it would probably be unwise for him to do so at this time.

So he waited as his Master cycled through her state of reverie, before returning to the present.

"Apologies."

"None needed, Master," he said with a bow. Something else came to mind though, a note that he'd received from his grandfather regarding the epic that he had sent the man.

' _Not Wyrms. Worms. Not the Church. Templars.'_

A note which chilled him…as did it mean that what was said in that story was mostly true? That his grandfather had been thought of as a Dark Lord and had been driven out of Russia by a grand alliance the likes of which had never been seen again?

…that Matou Zouken had once tried to rid the world of all suffering and evil?

The last bit was perhaps the most jarring of all, given that that _wasn't_ what magi did. And well, it really didn't match his image of the man who had thrown his mother to a pit of worms or who had himself become a living assemblage of worms.

And just what did the Templars have to do with it? Did that mean that they would one day come after him as they had his grandfather?

The thought was _worrying,_ to say the least _._

"I trust your friend will arriving soon, Matou?" Touko asked after some time.

"Yes, Master. Within two weeks."

"Portkey, I take it?"

"Indeed."

"Convenient things, those. But I prefer portals and planes."

"Oh?"

"With those, I can see where I am going," Aozaki Touko explained. "With a portkey, who knows where the destination might actually be, or what the situation will be like when I arrive. For instance, what if someone hijacks a portkey or has sabotaged it?"

"…that is a good point."

An uncomfortably good point, in fact, given that if he were a Dark Wizard, one of the easiest ways to cause havoc would be to meddle with the transportation system that people implicitly trusted.

"In any case, Matou, we had best make the most of your time. You've made good progress these past few weeks, but we do not have much longer before you seek your fortune."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

That night, as on many nights before, Matou Shinji dreamed of shadows and blood, of worms and wolves, of shooting stars and leaps of faith.


	2. Bleeding Effect

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 2.** _Bleeding Effect_

What little free time he had between the regular thrashings-cum-training sessions with Sajyou Ayaka, studying Ancient Runes with his Master, and doing the various other duties required of an apprentice (scut work, mostly, like repairing things his Master didn't want to deal with, keeping the workshop clean, and such), Matou Shinji spent working on his _ofuda._

With everything that had happened in the past year, he hadn't made much progress in working with his elemental affinities. He had managed to refine the basic non-elemental spells he knew, getting higher yields from his explosive _ofuda_ and the like, and even a few earth aligned spells related to binding and exorcism, but the rest still lay beyond him.

Water-based techniques, in particular, proved quite stubborn, with the flows of prana resisting him at every turn, like venomous serpents writhing and twisting in a bid to break his control. And if they ever did…

…well, that way lay calamity.

Even after a year, the only ones he'd managed properly were either those which froze water or caused it to condense itself from the air. Given how most of the basic water techniques he tried had been corrupted by darkness, he knew better than to try any spells of healing; and as for spells of decay and destruction…well, losing control of any of _those_ would likely be his end.

Touko had suggested last year that his strengths did not lay in healing, but Ayaka had gone further, given her odd affinity for yin _and_ yang, instead of one of the conventional elements.

The girl had determined that his strong yin affinity – amplified by a wand that was itself yin-aligned – was bleeding into the rest of his craft, with an array of consequences across the board, depending how stable or unstable the purpose of each discipline was.

It didn't affect most charms, for instance, since those had a single, clearly defined purpose, but it would negatively impact his abilities in say…transfiguration, which by its very nature involved inducing a stable system to change and transform.

…as a side effect, Ayaka had mentioned, Matou Shinji might have noticed being able to untransfigure objects with greater ease.

Which indeed he had.

And now that Shinji thought about it, this mirrored his experience with Earth and Water quite well. Earth techniques, due to the stable nature of the underlying element, weren't affected by his yin affinity, while water techniques, with their inherent complexities and elemental instabilities, were much more easily by any imbalance in a prana flow.

So he found himself in the shop called _Root of the Sky,_ consulting with Matsuo Hijiri, the maiden of the Tree, his original teacher in the Eastern Arts – and the woman who had crafted his wand.

"What do you think, Matsuo-san?" the practitioner of witchcraft asked respectfully, after he had laid out the specifics of the situation.

"Sajyou-san is correct in her assessment," the other confirmed, regarding him with eyes the color of blood. "And your wand does indeed have a strong affinity for yin, as opposed to yang. This is not entirely unusual for wands made in the East, given that crafters here simply care that a wand matches the natural affinity of a given individual."

"Oh?" Shinji inquired, noticing that she'd not said anything about wands made in the West. "Is it different elsewhere?"

The woman chuckled dryly.

"Each crafter has his or her preferences and philosophies as to what is best," Hijiri replied, the ghost of a smile playing across her lips. "Garrick Ollivander, who has supplied Britain with wands for many years now, uses only phoenix feathers, the heartstrings of drakes, or unicorn hairs – all powerful yang-aligned cores – providing his customers with a certain consistency of performance. Others disagree, using what cores are required for a more tailored wand, one that more closely matches the affinities of the wielder. Due to this, the results are less consistent in general, but tend to be better in certain areas."

"So, say…a wand may be particularly well-suited for binding or sealing – or the Dark Arts, but not say…transfiguration?" Shinji said, holding up the length of cherry she'd made for him two years ago.

"Exactly so, in your case," Hijiri noted, nodding slightly, "though to be precise, your wand is well-suited for an offensive role in combat. While these are usually classified as the Dark Arts, as opposed to spells used in Defense, in practice the distinction is near non-existent."

"Is that so…?" Shinji murmured, recalling one of Lockhart's lectures on how the Unforgivable Curses were not Unforgivable in Japan. Perhaps Hijiri could explain to him why the distinction had been made elsewhere then?

"Quite. In regions that have known much in the way of conflict – Central and Northern Europe, for instance, or Asia, the Dark Arts are recognized as simply another tool for self-preservation. In more sheltered areas such as Britain – whose practitioners of witchcraft were spared the worst of the fighting due to the presence of the Clock Tower, they were seen as a possible threat to those in power instead."

"…which is why some were banned – and others regulated – after the British Ministry of Magic rose to power."

"Indeed," Hijiri affirmed. "And so classes in this style of magic were subsequently named _Defense_ against the Dark Arts, biasing the population against once valuable spells and techniques."

"…why not in _Mahoutokoro_ then?" Shinji inquired, curious about the differences.

The maiden of the tree was silent for a moment, her expression quite out of place on a face that seemed as young as hers.

When she replied at last, her words were flat and emotionless.

"Because we are not a society formed only of practitioners of Witchcraft, Matou Shinji," she spoke, each word ringing with a sense of history. "And it has never been our way to simply separate light from dark, given our view of yin and yang as an indivisible whole. Medicine cures, but it does so by destroying that which makes us ill. The offensive arts damage and destroy – but in the process protect. That aside, we know full well of struggle and conflict, and so have a keen interest in ensuring we remain strong."

 _That we shall not be conquered._

"Then what of China?"

"They do not interact much with the West, except on their terms," the maiden noted, shaking her head. "Neither the Tower nor the Confederation have much influence there, given that China boasts its own schools of Thaumaturgy, facilities for training Witches, and the like. To be frank, much of our lore does come from that country, though we do not often admit it. We prefer to learn what we can from the West, however, to blend the best of several traditions and create something stronger than the sum of its parts."

"Like Yin and Yang."

"Precisely."

This time, it was Shinji's turn to be silent as he mused over what to ask. When he did speak up, he was more hesitant than before, given that it was the true reason he was here. He'd come for advice, after all, and had a bit of trepidation as to how she would answer.

"Speaking of yin and yang, do you recommendations as to my training, Matsuo-san?" he inquired. He knew she was quite experienced with these arts – much more than he – and he was curious what she would advise, given his limited time. "Per Kaiduka's recommendation, I have begun focusing on my yin affinity to gain some control over it, but…"

"…that is a long-term solution, not an immediate aid," Hijiri filled in helpfully.

"Well. Yes," Shinji admitted. "There's also the fact that I spend most of the year over at Hogwarts, not here, and need something I can work on there in the absence of a teacher."

"A valid point, Matou," the maiden noted, regarding the boy with her piercing gaze. "I suppose there are a few options before you, but before I make further suggestions, be aware that Earth and Water are very different elemental styles, and that learning both at once would be quite difficult, especially when greatly disposed to either yin or yang."

"With water being the most closely tied to Yin, yes?"

"Correct. Still, even for those with a more balanced yin-yang alignment, the general recommendation is to master one element at a time," the miko explained, a quirky smile crossing her lips. "For you, this is all the more so."

"I see," Shinji murmured, though he frowned as he recalled last summer, and how Hijiri had made him work on both. "But after you tested me, you had me work on water _and_ earth."

"That is because the harnessing the elemental aspect of the craft is difficult," Hijiri responded with a frown. "There have been many who do not go beyond the basics, using it only as a supplement for their craft. Others only have one elemental affinity, so the choice of what to train is simple. In your case, however, you had two, so I needed to see which you were best at, and how your affinities and your underlying alignment would react with one another."

"…I can see that," the Matou scion noted. "You wanted to see which elements I was able to use in practice, and to what extent."

"Exactly. Normally, this would take one term, after which we would then choose a single element for you to focus on, but in your case, there was no time."

"Since I study at Hogwarts, you mean."

"Exactly. Given the lack of a dedicated training period, I thought it would be more useful to allow you to experiment over the course of the year and see if you could overcome your challenges with water, but unfortunately, such was not the case," the shrine maiden explained, shrugging her shoulders. "And so our conversation today."

"Ah."

"As you've stated, you find Earth element techniques easy enough to use," she summarized. "It is one of the easiest to start with, and mastery will enhance your binding and sealing techniques. Unsurprisingly, water, a far more volatile element, is proving more difficult, but then, that is the element of disruption and decay – as well as healing. Thus far, you find that your yin energy corrupts any attempt to use the element, correct?"

"Yes."

"An effect I have seen before," Hijiri stated blandly. "The easiest option would be to simply focus on Yin until you manage to control the bleeding effect, but I somehow doubt you have the patience for that. Secondly, you could choose one of your elemental affinities to work with in addition to yin. For that, I would recommend earth, since it is less likely to lead to mishaps without supervision."

"And if I chose water?"

The miko just raised an eyebrow.

"Then I would suggest finding a very safe place to practice it, so that if you lose control of it, the only victim will be yourself," Hijiri intoned ominously, the baleful expression on her face causing Shinji to swallow and take a step back. "You come from a family of magi, so I needn't tell you about walking with death."

"Ah."

Her expression softened slightly as she shook her head.

"That and use a different wand," the miko continued, eying the mystic code she'd crafted for him. "The one you hold is certainly powerful, but it compounds your existing yin imbalance."

"Any other suggestions?"

"Well…there _are_ rituals through which your affinity may be altered, but those are usually quite painful. In addition, the altered affinity is usually not as powerful as that which it was changed from."

…rituals similar to those by which Matou Zouken had given the adopted Sakura a water affinity when she had been born with only one for "Imaginary Numbers" and other things of shadow.

"…no, I don't think the last is a viable option," Shinji responded quickly. "But thank you for the suggestion, Matsuo-san."

"True. You wouldn't want to be left a potential vegetable when your lady love arrives, would you?" Hijiri quipped merrily, her mood seemingly restored. "After all, she'd be quite disappointed if you weren't there after you so gallantly asked if she could join you in finding a familiar."

Shinji's response was to look down, trying to hide a face flushed incandescent red.

"I-it's really not like that," he grumbled, refusing to meet the shrine maiden's eye. "She…she's just curious about magical creatures outside of Britain, like I've already explained." He sighed, shaking his head. "Her father saw something like a Kirin in the past."

Hijiri blinked.

"…I was unaware that one had been seen in recent memory. You are aware of how rare sightings are, I presume?"

"I am," Shinji acknowledged. "Her father publishes a magazine which features odd animals, her favorite of which looks very much like a Kirin, though she calls it a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Curious," the shrine maiden noted, regarding the boy oddly. "Do you intend to teach her any of your craft, I wonder?"

"…that I don't know."

And he didn't, honestly. It was true that she knew some of his secrets, but he wasn't sure about letting any one person know all of them. That and he was pretty sure that if he taught Luna how to use _ofuda_ , Hermione would be quite irritated with him, even if he just wanted someone to spar with, and with hom he could talk about his Craft.

Harry, the only other person who knew something about ofuda at Hogwarts – because Shinji had taught him – was usually too busy for a spar, and too closely watched by most of Slytherin. The Stone Cutters themselves had an agreement about sharing skills, but Hillard had been busy as Watch Captain – and presumably would be Head Boy this year – and who knew the Twins were up to.

…well, he could practice against Peeves, he supposed, which would be interesting, even if the poltergeist couldn't fight as a practitioner of witchcraft might.

Still, he suspected Luna probably had a yang alignment and would make a good healer, something that the Stone Cutters gravely lacked, and it would be nice to talk with _someone_ who appreciated more of the intricacies and oddities of the moonlit world, instead of acting as if everything was just…normal.

"The decision is yours, of course," the miko said solemnly, "though I would ask that if you do teach something of our arts, you obtain an agreement not to spread the knowledge."

"I can do that," Shinji said quickly. It was a good precaution, after all. Though… "Do you know anything of the ancestry of practitioners of witchcraft, perchance?"

"You mean how your kind is distantly related to fey and youkai?" Hijiri questioned, sending a shiver down Shinji's spine. Sokaris had said she was aware of the inhuman origins of practitioners, but this was the first time someone had finally said it outright. "What of it?"

' _Ah…so I was right…'_

"…is it possible to tap into the abilities of that heritage?" the Matou scion inquired, his expression intent and almost…hungry. If _that_ was a way to reach more power…

"In several ways. The animagus transformation is the most obvious of these, of course, but one may also gain other abilities, depending on one's specific heritage," the miko explained. "In some, the supernatural blood is stronger, so they may sense things others do not, or have a more instinctive gift with their Craft. I would caution against exploring this avenue too deeply before you are ready, however."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"The gift may be awakened in a corrupted manner, such as lycanthropy, or the aspect you awaken may be incompatible with your skillset."

"…ah."

…a valid reason to stay away, though if one was to speak of those able to sense things others did not and who had a different common sense than most, Luna Lovegood would certainly fit the bill.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Hijiri inquired politely.

"Ah, no. Thank you, Matsuo-san. You've been a great help."

"Hmph, well it is only natural for me to help a former student," the shrine maiden noted. "Do choose your path soon, Matou Shinji. You, more than the others I teach, have only a little bit of time."

"That much I am aware of."

"Hmm, I suppose there is one more thing," Hijiri noted after a moment.

"Yes?"

Reaching behind the counter, the miko withdrew a small volume that was titled _Field Guide to Japan's Youkai_.

"If you do decide to go with Earth, I will lend this to you for your journey – it has some annotations by Kaiduka and Sajyou-san found it rather helpful in securing her familiar," she said with a thin smile. "If not, well, I suppose I can recommend a good shop for another wand."

"Oh? You wouldn't craft it for me?"

"Fufu…you wouldn't be able to afford the price for my services," the woman chuckled, hiding her mouth with her sleeve.

Shinji was uncomfortably reminded of that _other_ shop he'd encountered in _Mahoutokoro,_ whose odd shopkeeper had demanded an equal price for whatever they desired, paid not in money, but in trade.

Still…

"Thank you for the offer, Matsuo-san. I will…think about it," he said, not wanting to make a snap decision.

"See that you do," she said, placing the book behind the counter again. "But don't think too long. You of all people know the price of indecision."

* * *

That night, before he went to bed, Matou Shinji wrote his grandfather – if Zouken was truly his grandfather and not a relative far older than that – about the enigmatic reply he'd received. He knew from studying the Matou grimoires that their family's arts were largely of the water element, with a specialization in decay, but wanted to know more.

Was it related to the dreams he'd been having ever since he started training his yin-affinity? Were the worms there like what his grandfather used to create?

What was the true history of his family? He knew that they had been one of the three Founding Families of the Fuyuki Grail War, but beyond that, there were only rumors – and that odd play, _Makar Zolgen_.

' _Now that I think about it, why did Lockhart choose_ that _play?'_

There were many questions, many choices, many roads.

He needed more information. No, he needed more time.

But both of those were luxuries Matou Shinji did not have.


	3. The Road Less Taken

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 3.** _The Road Less Taken_

Shivering in the cold Hokkaido night, Matou Shinji found that he could barely keep himself awake as he sat by the flickering blue flames that served as a campfire. His fellow travelers were already asleep after a long day, and besides, it was his turn on watch.

When trekking through remote regions far beyond the reach of modern civilization – and well within the territories of several youkai clans – it was generally advisable to remain vigilant, even if one was traveling in the company of a powerful witch like Kaiduka's apprentice.

In the distance could be heard the plaintive howl of a lonely wolf, the mournful sound sending shivers down Shinji's spine – especially as the Ezo wolf (one of the two subspecies once found in Japan) was supposed to be extinct, even if there had been unconfirmed sightings north of Sapporo.

' _Wolf youkai then…?'_

Maybe one of the tengu, fierce, but protective spirits of the forests and mountains – such as that which surrounded them now? Their depictions varied, sometimes appearing in the old tales in the likeness of crows or birds of prey, sometimes like wolves, but always as fearsome creatures of great speed and power, who tore like shooting stars through any resistance.

There was no moon in the sky, and the tapestry of the stars above, mixed with feeble firelight, provided what little illumination there was, with every noise, every last rustle or sigh of the midnight wind seeming magnified – more ominous since he could not see where they came from.

' _Sajyou-san said that in the wilderness, there might be bears. Or youkai about.'_

As the one on watch, Matou Shinji felt very small, and very much alone – not to mention, more than a little unprepared, even with a wand in his hand.

But then, the entire trip so far had reminded him of that.

For even with a mentality befitting a magus, and the acceptance of the very real possibility of death, Matou Shinji was coming to realize that he had led a relatively sheltered existence. In Fuyuki, he had had all the modern conveniences of technology available, and all the power of wealth besides. If he wanted something to eat, he could just walk to a restaurant or place a call for takeout. If he wanted to participate in something, his family would make it happen. And he never had to worry about where to sleep, where to wash, or earning his keep – not really.

At Hogwarts and _Mahoutokoro,_ he'd had to do more to keep his place, but the basics, such as food and housing had never been a concern. _Mahoutokoro_ featured restaurants in the city as well as a cafeteria at the school, and Hogwarts, well, it had House Elves that cooked and cleaned and more.

But here, surrounded by the wilderness, not even those basics were certain, especially as he didn't know – well, _hadn't_ known – how to cook, or how to apply his knowledge of herbology to feeding himself, and more to the point, had never been camping or trekking before.

In the back of his mind, he'd thought that finding a familiar would be a simple affair, especially with Kaiduka's assistance. That perhaps the fox would introduce him to some of the young youkai in the City who might want to go on a journey to the West and learn about another land.

Yet it was _he_ who was on a journey – a journey _on foot_ to the Shiretoko Peninsula, perhaps _the_ most remote region in all of Japan. Fittingly, its name was derived from the Ainu for "sir etok", meaning the end of the world.

And it certainly felt like it. Aside from his companions, Luna Lovegood and Sajyou Ayaka, he hadn't seen another person in days, not since they met with Kaiduka in the small town of Kamikawa, where the fox had outlined the specifics of their itinerary and treated them to a bowl of what might be the most delicious ramen he'd ever tasted.

They'd had the salt ramen – of which only 20 bowls were made each day, with both soup and noodles made using the meltwater of Daisetsuzan (the "Great Snowy Mountains"), with the natural salt of Lake Saroma used in the both, and roasted bird fillet, a pine nut, a fine strips of leek, sesame seeds, and fine strips of red pepper as toppings.

…as advertised, it was delicious.

The details of the trip had been more difficult to swallow, given that he'd never expected to go on a month long trek into the wilds. Luna took it in stride, but then, as he'd discovered, she was used to these kinds of trips each summer, when she and her father would go looking for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. The only difference this summer was that her father had been invited to give a series of lectures on the magical creatures of Britain at the _Mahoutokoro_ School of Witchcraft, and would not be joining them.

And Ayaka…well, she'd done this before, and knew what to expect.

Both of them had packed accordingly, each with a tent and various supplies, while Shinji had not. With the _miko's_ words about his wand's yin affinity amplifying his innate yin-yang imbalance – and hindering his abilities with transfiguration – ringing in his head, he'd focused on finding a second wand that wouldn't impair him so.

* * *

This, needless to say, took a great deal of time.

He'd tried out any number of shops, and a truly dazzling array of wands, but none reacted to him until he visited the oddly named _Asplund's Shop of Horrors._

The shopkeeper, a strange bespectacled man who admitted to being a sociopath born with an empty heart, specialized in things that were…unusual, in curios and trinkets that one wouldn't find in other shops.

For instance, a thirteen and a half inch wand of Yew with a Phoenix Feather core that had come to him all the way from Eastern Europe, having changed hands many times as it sought to find a worthy Master.

Yew wands were quite rare, of course, and their true Masters tended to be…unusual, sometimes even notorious, with a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of duelling and all curses. Combined with a phoenix feather, making it capable of an exceedingly broad range of spells, it was quite a potent instrument to be used either for protection or destruction…

…sadly, however, this wand did not react to Shinji in any way, but then phoenix feather cores were tricky things and difficult to please.

Next, the shopkeeper had presented him with the one of his more unusual items in his inventory – a redwood wand with a drake heartstring core, eleven inches in length.

As the man related, wands of redwood were strongly attracted to practitioners of witchcraft who possessed the admirable ability to fall on their feet, to make the right choice, to snatch advantage from catastrophe, and he'd always found the concept of fortune an intriguing thing.

But this too failed to react in Shinji's hands, which he found more troubling.

The shopkeeper had sighed and gave a considering _hmm_ , retrieving a third wand – one that stopped Shinji cold at how much it looked like his late mother's.

"Ah, you've seen a willow wand before then?" the man asked curiously. "Unusual wands, usually made for those with some…insecurity, no matter how well they try to hide it. Of course, they also tend to choose those with the greatest potential as well…"

This wand, unlike the others before, evoked a response, growing warm in his hands, with the proprietor of the shop nodding as if he'd predicted this might be the case.

"Not bad, not bad at all," the man rasped, taking the wand from Shinji's fingers. "If this last one doesn't work, then the willow and unicorn hair wand will be yours…"

And then the last one touched his fingers, and a dense, grey fog filled the room, only being dispelled once the other snapped his fingers.

"…ah, one of the oldest wands in my collection. A Gregorovitch, in fact," the other mused, eying the boy as if he were a curious specimen that he wished to study. "Hazel wood with a Coral core, 10 inches in length."

Shinji blinked upon hearing this.

"Coral?" he echoed.

"A creature of transformations and flows," the bespectacled shopkeeper elaborated, taking the wand and placing it into a box. "Quite an interesting thing to pair with hazel, given how sensitive that wood is to its owner's emotional state, like the ebb and flow of the tides themselves. What is most intriguing though, is that these wands have the unique ability to detect water in hidden places, and will emit silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke if passing over concealed springs and wells."

"…water, you say?"

"Indeed. In any case, since this wand has chosen you, it is yours," the man related, his lips drawing back into a predatory smile. "But first…the _price."_

Oddly enough, the man hadn't asked for money or the beads of crystallized prana that served as such in _Mahoutokoro,_ asking for something _more_ than mere wealth. With his experience in the other shop where he'd had to pay an equivalent price guiding him, he thought it would be problematic to run - and well, he needed a second wand, so in the end, he settled for trying to make the best deal possible. In the end, he'd haggled the man down to accepting the copy of the _Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ that Hermione had gifted to him – the first gift she'd ever given anyone - and nothing else.

...only, the man had seemed pleased by this, almost too pleased.

"Yes…quite a bit of expectation bound up in such a tome," the man had remarked after the trade was complete. "The folly of youth and emotion. Innocence, they say. A most interesting source of mystery and chaos. Methinks I got the better end of the deal."

Then Shinji had been allowed to go, wondering why, even though he'd bargained the man down to a single tome in exchange for the wand, he felt as if he'd lost something… _precious_.

And why, as he came to that realization and looked back, the man had simply smiled…with Shinji swallowing his question and redoubling his pace.

* * *

"…you visited _where_?" Hijiri had asked after the fact, shaking her head. "Matou, of all the shops…"

"…is there something wrong with that shop?" Shinji had questioned, perhaps a little defensively. "I mean, I _did_ get a second wand…"

"You did," she allowed slowly. "Just be sure it was worth the price."

"A book?"

"Matou, you of all people should know that dealings in the shadows are rarely as straightforward as they seem," the _miko_ remarked. "There are shops here that demand a price in value and things of visible worth. And then there are shops that demand a price more subtle."

"And yours?"

The woman regarded the boy for a long moment before she answered.

"It depends on what you wish to buy. But as I said, you alone could not afford it," Matsuo Hijiri responded honestly. "Still, I presume that since you did not ask me for a recommendation, that you are choosing to focus on your Earth alignment for the time being?"

Shinji just nodded.

"Very well," she noted, reaching behind the counter and handing the boy the annotated _Field Guide to Japan's Youkai_. "Then this is yours for the duration of the journey."

"Hm?"

Hijiri had just chuckled, hiding her mouth with a sleeve.

"Well, you'll find the details sooner or later. Sooner, rather, since Kaiduka will meet you in a few days," she quipped, before leaving him to his business.

* * *

If he'd only realized what _journey_ meant at the time, perhaps he would have focused on acquiring provisions and some kind of tent instead of spending his time looking for a new wand, or spent the last few days preparing, but he hadn't.

Even when he met Luna and her father up in Maruyama Park and escorted them to the school, with the young girl telling him of the time they'd spent in Japan so far, and how she'd enjoyed going through Aokigahara – the great sea of trees at the base of Mt. Fuji that was historically associated with demons in Japanese mythology, it hadn't really clicked for him how difficult it normally was to find a new creature.

Until Kaiduka had met them, briefed them, and left, with Shinji ill-equipped to venture into the wilds compared to his companions.

(Some would say that as long as one had a wand, one was never quite ill-equipped, but one would be wrong, especially given that Shinji had a less than ideal grasp of transfiguration, the art by which most lacks could be remedied).

Shinji had remedied this – partially – by cramming into a mokeskin pouch as much in the way of Spam, processed meats, instant ramen and other things as he could, but that only accounted for a portion of his provisions.

He'd be out in a week, at best.

He hadn't had too much trouble keeping up during the walk at least, or at least he hadn't complained as he'd begun to tire, while the others kept walking and walking and walking, discussing the wildlife one could expect to find, the edible herbs in the region, the politics among youkai and some things about _Mahoutokoro._

It was a mercy when they finally came to a halt – after one of the most exhausting days of his life – but as it turned out, his misery was only beginning.

They'd set up camp – with Shinji forced to admit that he didn't have a tent, and didn't know how to set one up. Ayaka had been somewhat annoyed to hear that, but had been mollified when Luna had offered to share hers with Shinji, since charmed tents tended to be spacious enough for several people, with a desk, seats, even a kitchen and bedding.

…there was only one problem: Luna's tent had only one bed, and Shinji had no sleeping bag, though as Ayaka was planning on having them sleep in shifts, due to the danger of the untamed lands, it wasn't _that_ big a concern.

Except for the fact that it would be hard for Matou Shinji to fall asleep in a bed that smelled like Luna Lovegood – like the woods, blended with hints of plum, vanilla, and rainwater, and that would retain much of her warmth when he climbed into it.

The bigger concern was that he didn't know how to cook at all.

Why, he didn't even know how to prepare the packaged ramen he'd crammed into his pouches – a fact which left Ayaka somewhat incredulous. She'd demanded that he demonstrate, only to bite her tongue as she saw him floundering in the kitchen, glaring at the pot on the stove as if it held some dark secrets hidden from the uninitiated.

This…well, everyone had to start somewhere, she rationalized, with both she and Luna moving over and showing him how to prepare (and not overcook) his pre-cooked blocks of instant noodles, how to add things like Spam, chili paste, and canned vegetables to the broth to make the meal more satisfying, and how a few fresh herbs and vegetables could go a long way towards making something taste better, as variety would be necessary on such a long trip.

As they ate that night, the fox's apprentice had offered to teach both of them a few things about practical herblore, with Shinji catching a half muttered remark that it was either that or end up being poisoned by an idiot.

…which hurt, quite frankly, since being thought of as an idiot was the last Shinji wanted.

Perhaps that was why, when Sajyou-san asked him to dispose of the trash, Shinji felt he had to do _something_ , even though he didn't know the Vanishing Charm – and was unwilling to use one of his mokeskin pouches for garbage.

So he'd gone outside, put all the trash in a pile, and drawn up a basic warding circle of runes around them as he prepared to use one of his water spells – his most basic of water spells – to simply dissolve it out of existence. He'd done it before, under Touko's supervision, so he could do it again, right?

…but Ayaka had caught him before he even started, and asked him what he was doing. When he explained that he was planning to use his corrupted water spells in place of a vanishing charm…well, the girl pretty much exploded.

Or at least that was what he figured happened when he found himself on the ground, looking up at the sky, feeling like his skin had been burned off, his head ringing and throbbing with pain.

"Selfish…idiot…" he made out, with only bits and pieces of her words coming through. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if you lost control with _that_ wand? Without someone else who can control Yin present to stop the reaction?"

Shinji didn't answer, since he had a feeling she would tell him.

"You would have died at a minimum," the Witch intoned, her voice deathly cold. "And worse, you might have hurt – or killed your companion."

 _Oh._

"Your own life is one thing, Matou Shinji, and it is your choice if you wish to throw it away," she continued, radiating enough killing intent to freeze him to the spot. "But do not value our lives so cheaply."

"…I'm…"

Her expression was withering.

"Do not apologize, Matou. Simply learn. Until you do, I will be keeping this."

With that, she took his Yin-aligned wand – the length of cherry – from his fallen form – and vanished into her tent, leaving him alone in the cold to reflect on his thoughts.

That was how Luna found him sometime later, still laying on the ground, not having moved an inch from the site of his humiliation.

"…why are you laying on the ground, Matou Shinji?" she'd asked, looking down at him with a puzzled expression.

Shinji didn't reply as the blonde lay down beside him, her silver eyes luminous as she propped her head up on her hand and looked over towards him.

"…you don't have to do that, Luna," he muttered weakly. "It's…it's my fault…"

"What's wrong?"

"It's…"

"Hm?"

"Japan is…" he sighed, trailing off. "Magic – what you call magic, isn't as simple as people say it is at Hogwarts. It can be a very dangerous thing."

"I know," came the reply.

Shinji startled.

"You do?"

"My mother died experimenting with a spell," she reminded him gently, her eyes soft. "Was that what you were doing?"

"…yes," he admitted, with a long, shuddering sigh. "I should have been more careful."

"I would rather not join Mum again quite so soon," Luna murmured. "And I don't think your mother would want you to join her yet either. I think they'd want us to live whole and happy lives…right?"

Her smile was a calm, beautiful thing – but it was all the more painful for that.

"…you're right," Shinji conceded, closing his eyes. "I'll be more careful."

"Good. I don't want to lose the first person besides Dad who was ever really nice to me. Even if you do experiment with spells, like Mum did." She paused, looking thoughtfully over at Ayaka's tent. "She's your teacher, right? Her magic is like yours?"

"You could say that…"

She wasn't his Master, or the one who had taught him the art of _ofuda_ , but she knew more about yin and yang than anyone else he knew – Hijiri excepted, probably.

Luna hesitated for a moment, her breath catching.

"Yes?"

"…do you think she would teach me something?"

Shinji blinked.

"…whatever for?"

"To make sure you don't just die like mother did…"

Shinji's mouth went dry as he heard those words. To think someone would go out of her way to make sure he didn't die. He didn't think anyone really cared if he lived or died, really – well, except maybe Sokaris and Harry.

"It…might be dangerous. And well, Sajyou-san is…she's not the easiest to get along with."

"I'm fine with that, Matou Shinji." That…he didn't know exactly how her answer made him feel, but for some reason, he was strangely warm in the chill of night.

"Thank you…Luna."

"Of course," she murmured, sitting up and regarding the prone boy with a shake of her head. "You have first watch, Matou. Wake me up when it's my turn."

"…I will," he promised, patting himself to see if he still had his other wand – the wand of hazel and coral – with him, which he did. It wouldn't do to be defenseless, after all.

"And it might help if you sat by the fire, instead of laying on the ground, looking at the sky," she continued, a slight hint of teasing in her voice.

"…alright, alright," Shinji grumbled, as he forced himself upright, putting out a hand to steady himself. "Good night, Luna."

"Good night, Matou."

And then she was gone. Slowly, his body aching with protest, Shinji moved to a seat beside the fire, hoping that this first night's watch would prove to be a quiet one on this cold Hokkaido night. Hopefully too, better days lay ahead, or else it promised to be a long, hard month.


	4. War Never Changes

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 4.** _War. War Never Changes._

" _Obliviate!"_

So came a whisper from the dark, as a fatigue clad figure stumbled and pitched forward at his desk, spilling his bottle of cheap spirits upon the paper there. His face was a blank and empty mask, lips still wrapped around a smoldering cigarette. He wasn't dead, no, but he might as well be, with most of his memories erased, leaving him a drooling idiot.

" _Incendio_."

A second whisper, and a stream of fire issued forth, igniting the man, his papers, and all in the house he'd taken over. Alcohol-soaked paper, wood, and cloth caught readily, and if flesh did not – well, the insensate man – one of the warlords in the region – wouldn't be any state to flee.

If anyone has been in that room, listening, he might have heard the sound of fabric brushing against an open window amidst the crackling of the hungry flames, but there was no one. No witnesses. Just a panicked mob that came to a stop outside a raging inferno that had been their commander's house some minutes later.

But by that time, the assassin was long gone.

* * *

In the morning light, a small band of battered refugees appeared on the main road, miles away from the town they'd fled, somehow having evaded the patrols around the town – mostly due to the paramilitary forces being tied up with fires in the town, they thought. They were exhausted. They hadn't been in the best shape when they left that…place, beaten as they were, brutalized as they had been, forced to do terrible, terrible things by those who wished to break their spirits.

And with the adrenaline that had fueled their escape gone, what were they to do now? Serbian forces would probably find them soon, and then they'd be returned to _that place_ , with cruelty after cruelty visited upon them for being Bosniaks – for being Muslims.

But the ones who found them were not the Serbian paramilitary forces who had captured them in the first place, but a team from the International Red Cross on its way back from inspecting one of the more sanitized concentration camps in the conflict.

And so they were rescued.

Some distance away, an invisible Gilderoy Lockhart sighed as he watched the humanitarian convoy picked up the refugees and disappeared into the distance, a difficult expression on his face. The atrocities in that camp would continue for some time, he knew, and the weight of every life he could not save weighed on him.

Not the life of the brutes who had chosen to be tormentors, to obey a cruel master. But the lives of their captives – the hundreds of them he could not make away with, not even with the confusion of the fire. Well, _fires,_ since he repeated his tactics on the town's only hotel.

He wasn't proud of what he'd done, but it provided a good enough cover for the escape of the few he'd managed to save. And yes, perhaps fire was a cruel way to die, far messier and more painful than a knife to the back, but it was more effective and did not invite reprisals upon an already ravaged populace. After all, it was easy enough to blame soldiers for getting drunk and falling asleep after their…exertions, just as a warlord could certainly suffer a stroke.

True, it wouldn't stop the paramilitary band from continuing their atrocities later, but it had given him an opportunity to help some reach safety and alert authorities that cared about what was going on, so that someone might intervene.

Not the corrupt police, who were perfectly aware of the rapes and murders in their town, and made no attempt to stop it, but agencies that cared only about preserving human rights and human dignity, such as the International Red Cross.

…though he'd made sure to erase from the minds of those he'd freed the memory of a mysterious rescuer, who had given them some strange medicine and bid them to come with him – before setting the hotel where they were held on fire with their insensate guards still inside. Who had found their children and brought them out of captivity amidst the chaos of the town.

For he didn't want to be known.

Not for things like this. For these purposes, it was best for people to think he was never there in the first place. Which his reputation made easy, given that his books ensured that people thought he was always out on some adventure elsewhere, dealing with savage beasts and dangerous dark creatures that no other wizard dared to confront.

…even if people did not like to admit that the most savage and dangerous creatures on this earth were humans, wizard or no.

Bosnia in 1993, in the wake of the collapse of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, was a perfect example, with militants pouring into the country from across state lines, horrific slaughters of civilians, innocents killed, raped, and otherwise victimized.

"Crimes against Humanity" were the words being thrown around, and Lockhart thought the description was apt, given that they disregarded the human dignity of their victims, and degraded the humanity of their perpetrators.

That was war.

That was the inevitable result when structures built around control collapsed in upon themselves. In the beginning, they might be founded on the quest for a utopian ideal, a place free of bigotry or inequality, so that each person might be provided for according to his need, contributing what they could with their unique abilities.

But such utopias never came to pass on a large scale, because states – groups – founded on that principle invariably sought to centralize power as a means to an end – but found that means an end in itself. The cause became merely a shield or stepping-stone to further the selfish desires of the powerful, as they worked not for the benefit of mankind, but for their own sake.

And when these corrupt men and women fell, the old hates and schisms would manifest themselves once more, with other factions taking advantage of the chaos to try to eliminate others they saw to be a threat, staining their blades with the blood of innocents.

…as they did today, while most of Europe turned a blind eye to it all, though they had had the power to stop it.

He smiled bitterly, thinking that it was not dissimilar to how Britain – and Albus Dumbledore – had turned a blind eye to the actions of Grindelwald, allowing atrocity upon atrocity to be committed while they argued that domestic issues meant more.

There was no expeditionary force sent to stop him. No aid given to the other countries who suffered from the Dark Wizard's predations. No action taken until Grindelwald had been on the cusp of overthrowing Magical Europe and revoking the Statute of Secrecy.

Lockhart grimaced as he recalled Grindelwald's belief that Muggles needed order, discipline, and control in order to mask their barbaric nature, and to achieve that, the Dark Wizard had sought to create a new order in which powerful wizards and witches ruled over the world as a new nobility – with Grindelwald as the first among equals as Emperor of Mankind.

He would concede that those without magic could be cruel, vicious, and barbaric – but then, so could wizards, and to a greater extent, given the amount of power they held.

Actually, he thought wizards were worse than Muggles, since so many of their laws and restrictions were backwards and meaningless, meant for no other purpose but to control the populace and keep them ignorant.

One of the major reasons for conflict (leaving aside religion, which he acknowledged to a useful tool for control) among the Muggles was scarcity of resources, as crop failures, ill-planned distribution networks, or competition could interrupt the flow of things like food, water, or of course there were things like living space too, with population pressures causing major problems around the globe.

But _wizards had no such excuse._

True, food was one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law, meaning one could not conjure it out of thin air, but existing food could be multiplied with the Doubling Charm.

Water or fire could be conjured. Locations could be charmed to add hidden floors and spaces, so they'd be bigger on the inside than they appeared.

One could even conjure up tools when one needed them, chairs, or what have you, or be able to transfigure such, so no wizard should suffer poverty, should lack for any of these basic needs, should need to go around dressed shabbily.

Not when one could simply duplicate a good set of clothing, perhaps using a color-change charm or such on it to add a bit of variety.

True, the duplicates would break down slightly more quickly than the original, but given that the reclusive twins who had invented the Charm, Helixa and Syna Hyslop, had used it to create duplicates of every item inside their mansion, in which they lived together their whole lives, this tendency was clearly not an issue during even the long lifetime of a witch.

So why did the Ministry make laws so that these replicas were considered "worthless"? Why did the Ministry create laws to regulate what could and could not be conjured? Why did any wizard or witch live in poverty?

The answer was simple: control.

When witches or wizards worried over things like pay and money to afford things like education, food, utilities, they wouldn't think of bettering themselves. By regulating these small, everyday aspects of the lives of everyday witches and wizards, limiting what they were capable of, the corrupt men and women of the Ministry rendered their subjects compliant, especially when the Ministry itself employed over a fourth of the British wizarding population.

They grew used to obedience, to not resisting, to conforming to the social order – which in practice meant acquiescing to the wishes of the powerful, whether that meant the Ministry, Albus Dumbledore, or Lord Voldemort.

So was it any wonder that when Lord Voldemort promised his followers a new world – a new order – with them in power, and a group that was perceived as threatening the status quo because they thought outside the box – Muggleborns – crushed, that they obeyed?

The people were so conditioned to obeying an authority that they didn't question, didn't think it was worthwhile to know the histories, to know the truth. Binns' tenure as History of Magic Professor had made that unmistakably clear.

Truth didn't mean much to most wizards – even when they had it before them, they refused to look, remaining willfully ignorant because they were frightened of what they would see.

Because they would rather be slaves to the assurances of the powerful, than be free, left to fend for themselves.

And so time and time again, the patterns repeated themselves, albeit with different actors on the stage. Dark Lords, corrupt politicians, and the people refusing to choose for themselves, to stand up for their birthright as humans each special in their own right.

Magic became simply a commodity, nothing special at all. Sometimes a tool, sometimes an excuse, but in the end, just another system to be studied for a grade, not something people really prided themselves on knowing, save for those who were _exceptional._

Gilderoy Lockhart had once believed himself exceptional, and in truth, he had once had tremendous ability in the Craft. But that belief had been stripped away over the years, and for a time, he had stopped trying altogether, because he knew he would never be the very best.

…and then on his first adventure, he'd seen the horror of war.

No. Not war – a massacre. Attempted genocide. The slaughter of thousands of unarmed civilians in a refugee camp by a right-wing Christian militia called the Phalanges, on the pretext of "crushing terrorists."

To this day, the memory was burned into his mind. The sight of dead women in their houses with their skirts up to their waists and their legs spread apart; dozens of young men shot after being lined up against an alley wall; children with their throats slit, a pregnant woman with her stomach chopped open, her eyes still wide open, her blackened face silently screaming in horror; countless babies and toddlers who had been stabbed or ripped apart and who had been thrown into garbage piles.

These were innocents.

People who hadn't been combatants, who hadn't fought, whose only crime was to believe in a creed different that of their killers.

For all the memory of Lord Voldemort was hated and feared in Magical Britain, the man had never committed an atrocity on that scale. Yes, there had been some attacks on Muggleborns, but not in any systematic, organized fashion – those were mostly the actions of his followers. Mostly, Voldemort had confronted Ministry forces, seeking to subvert them from the inside and cripple their ability to wage war, to destroy public confidence in their ability to protect. Thus he had specifically targeted prominent families like the Bones and the Prewetts, who were largely involved in the efforts against him, using fear as a weapon to keep his opponents – the Ministry and Albus Dumbledore – off balance, scrambling to hold on to what they could instead of seeking out the Death Eaters and confronting them in open battle.

Seeing the aftermath of the Sabra and Shatila massacre – among the other horrors that humanity was capable of, which he'd been insulated from most of his life – and learning the story of an old man who would later call his mentor, changed him. It made him see how fragile the foundations of society were, how so much of what people believed was merely a lie. It made him see how each human had the potential to be the architect of his or her own actions – if they were free – but how, if they did not, and were enslaved by tyrannical systems of order and control, the result would be tragic.

In that sense, he found a purpose, a light, a creed. He became a seeker of truth and a shaper of stories, an author bringing back tales from the unknown lands.

Was he an adventurer? Oh, yes.

Were the sorts of adventures he went on things people would want to read about?

That…depended.

Magical Britain wanted to see tales of a wizard overcoming terrible beasts, so that was what he gave them. Some, things he'd written on his own. Some, the adventures of others who didn't want to be known, but didn't mind if the stories were shared and inspired others. Some, stories that had once been told but had been lost, which he repurposed, like the Muggle author Shakespeare had done once upon a time.

And a few of the things he did, he never published, never told, as they weren't suitable for public consumption.

Not when he – and others he knew – often worked in the dark to serve the light, with him having seen many battlefields in his time. Many victims. Many warzones.

Places where the thin veneer of civilization had been stripped away, where powerful preyed more directly on the weak, where things like right and wrong often were pushed aside in favor of what people wanted, what people believed.

Worst of all was what happened to the common folk, who often could – and did – disappear without a trace, vanishing into the backdrop of the wars. Sometimes, it was due to predation by paramilitary forces or collateral damage. Sometimes it was genocide. Sometimes it was the harsh reality of nature once food and shelter were gone.

…and sometimes, it was because Dark Wizards too, liked these places, because they were perfect locales from which to obtain experimental subjects or victims for dark rituals.

His journey through the Balkans to Albania, following in Quirrell's footsteps, was carrying him straight through such a place, bringing to the forefront of his mind memories he had never truly forgotten, memories which drove him forward even today.

' _War. War never changes.'_

* * *

"…so you imprisoned the wrong man for over a decade?" an incredulous Harry Potter asked of the others in the ornate office - Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, Lucius Malfoy, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"…yes," Amelia Bones admitted, her solemn features hard as stone. "In our defense, Mr. Potter, Albus Dumbledore did inform us that Black had been the Secret-Keeper for your parents, which matched with reports from the first responders to the scene, who found Black laughing manically."

Cornelius Fudge coughed then, raising a finger for attention.

"My report, actually," he interjected. Oddly enough, the Minister was wearing all black today, instead of his usual, more colorful wardrobe, even eschewing his green bowler. "As part of the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, I was the first on scene. I still remember the sight to this day – Sirius Black, laughing maniacally, his wand in his hand, a crater in the street, and the remains of Muggles everywhere. I remember thinking that that he hadn't just killed Pettigrew – he'd _destroyed_ him, leaving only a finger. _Worse_ than anything I'd seen before."

"Yes, the Killing Curse is a rather clean form of death compared to that affair," Lucius concurred, his lips curving into a frown. "But you are correct. Due to actions of our late predecessors, the Ministry detained the wrong man and sent him to Azkaban without trial."

"Dreadful affair, really, especially since it deprived you of your godfather," Fudge added. "My dear boy, if I had any idea that Black was innocent…"

"It's not your fault, Minister," Harry replied graciously, his own features barely less masklike. "You did your job. That the Department of Magical Law Enforcement failed to do its job is not something you could have foreseen."

"…that's kind of you to say," the Minister allowed, blinking as he heard the boy's words. That the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't threatening to condemn the Ministry for what had happened was a boon in itself, given his influence with Magical Britain.

"The Department still failed, however," the Boy-Who-Lived stated pointedly. "A murderer walked free for twelve years – and was awarded an Order of Merlin, while an innocent man was imprisoned."

"The late Bartimeus Crouch was always something of a fanatic," the cool tones of Lucius Malfoy broke in. "He despised the Dark Arts, it is true, but he was as cruel as any Dark Wizard, legalizing the use of the Unforgivables, and imprisoning many without trials. As Chief Warlock, I am calling for new investigations into the cases of others thus imprisoned."

"Given that he died with no heirs, the Ministry will liquidate his estate, with the proceeds going to benefit any victims of his so-called justice," Amelia Bones added, wishing to distance herself – and the Department – from the man who had been responsible for this scandal. "We can also strip Peter Pettigrew of his Order of Merlin, as it would seem his confrontation was not so heroic after all."

"I trust Pettigrew will be given the Dementor's Kiss?" Harry inquired, his voice perfectly calm – almost too calm.

The room was utterly silent.

"You don't wish him simply sent to Azkaban?" Amelia Bones inquired, looking askance at the green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Not when escaping the prison is clearly possible," the Heir of Slytherin pointed out, upon which the Head of Magical Law Enforcement nodded. "And after all he has done, why should he be allowed to die in peace and go to the afterlife whole?"

"Very well. We will schedule a date for Pettigrew to be given the Dementor's Kiss then, with his body to be incinerated thereafter," Amelia Bones conceded. "Would you care to witness it?"

"Yes, please."

"Very well. Any other…guests, Mr. Potter?" the Department Head asked gingerly.

"Professor Snape, my Head of House," Harry replied, as the Potions Professor was the closest thing he had to a father today, and from his comments in the past, would be happy to see the murderer brought to justice. "I appreciate the consideration, Madam Bones."

"Of course. We will send you an owl."

"Is there anything else the Ministry can do for you, Mister Potter?" Cornelius Fudge asked solicitously.

"I think Sirius Black would likely appreciate a public apology from the Ministry," the Heir of Slytherin answered, with Fudge barely able to keep from wincing. _That_ was what he'd been afraid the boy would ask. "Azkaban is…not a kind place." So Professor Lockhart had taught him, and well, if a place was guarded by Dementors, of course it was not a good place.

"No, it is not," Lucius Malfoy concurred. "As a victim of the Dark Lord who was subjected to the Imperius Curse and forced to do terrible things against my will, I narrowly avoided being sent there myself." He paused. "I believe arrangements for a formal apology would only be appropriate. The man is my cousin by marriage, after all, and if a prominent citizen like himself suffered imprisonment, who is to say there weren't other victims."

"That is a good point, Lucius," Fudge agreed reluctantly. "Very well, I will personally contact the _Daily Prophet_ and arrange for a press conference. For suffering such unjust punishment, and enduring it, I think Black deserves an Order of Merlin, don't you? As well as a pardon for being an illegal animagus."

"Naturally."

* * *

The following morning, the headline of the _Daily Prophet_ read thus:

 ** _SIRIUS BLACK FALSELY ACCUSED! PETER PETTIGREW TO BE GIVEN THE DEMENTOR'S KISS!_**

By Rita Skeeter

 _In a stunning development, new evidence has emerged in the case of Sirius Black, the man notorious for the alleged betrayal of the Potters to the Dark Lord and the brutal murder of Peter Pettigrew, O.M. (First Class). Such evidence, which consisted of a very much alive Peter Pettigrew and his memories, confirm that Pettigrew,_ **not** _Sirius Black, was in fact_ , _the Potter Secret-Keeper_.

 _Captured by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after the Pettigrew Incident, he was sentenced to Azkaban without trial – one of a number of individuals to be so condemned, though his was the most serious case._

 _A statement by Lucius Malfoy, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, describes these cases as "a grave miscarriage of justice." The Chief Warlock seeks new investigations and proper trials for victims of "Crouch so-called Justice."_

" _The laws that govern our realm and protect our rights as citizens exist for a reason,"_ Malfoy stated. _"If we who are charged with enforcing the law simply discard it when it is convenient, how is the public to trust us?"_

 _The Chief Warlock notes that these actions happened with the approval of his predecessor, who never attempted to revisit the cases of any imprisoned during the war, in spite of his record of seeking justice before it._

" _That even one innocent man was condemned to Azkaban is a terrible failure of the standards to which we hold ourselves," Amelia Bones, current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement added. "While I do not deny the late Bartemius Crouch's passion in opposing the Dark Arts, I do question how much he valued the laws and principles which have guided our nation for centuries."_

 _Given that Crouch's own son turned to the Dark Arts, it is questionable how much of Crouch's hatred of the Dark Arts was genuine. What is known was that he authorized the use of the Unforgiveable Curses by Aurors, and sentenced many to Azkaban without trial._

 **Was he fit to act?** _Is a question that asked many times in the Wizengamot over the last week, with some finding that he was negligent in his duties – and some accusing him of far worse._

" _I cannot speak for Bartemius Crouch," the Minister himself said in a public statement. "But I can speak for the Ministry today when I say that a terrible wrong has been committed against one of our citizens when the man chosen by the Ministry to uphold the rule of law decided that the law did not matter. As Minister of Magic, I extend a formal apology to Sirius Black for all the wrongs he has endured on the Ministry's behalf."_

 _Beyond stripping Peter Pettigrew of his ill-won Order of Merlin, the Minister has announced plans to create a fund to compensate victims of Crouch's so-called Justice._

 _In response to Crouch's abuses, Lucius Malfoy urged greater internal oversight of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stating that these wrongful imprisonment cases were the least of the Ministry's worries, given its history of collusion on all levels with vigilante organizations with no accountability._

" _During the war, sensitive and classified information – patrol patterns, the identities of persons of interest, plans for national defense, and the like – were leaked to the so-called Order of the Phoenix, an organization accountable only to Albus Dumbledore in his role as a private citizen. And while I understand that my predecessor had the best of intentions and wished only to pursue the Greater Good, the fact remains that he created an organization to wage a secret war against private citizens who had not been accused of – or convicted of – any crime."_

 _As a victim of the Imperius Curse during the First Wizarding War, Lucius Malfoy expressed concerns both about the precedent this set as well as the consequences of data security._

" _It is well known that becoming an Auror is difficult, given not only the academic requirements, but the screenings for character and aptitude, and the three year training period in which many candidates fail to advance. Moreover, Aurors can only act within the limits of the law. But vigilante organizations have no such limitations, no such restrictions on membership."_

 _For the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to have colluded with the Order, he feels, is a scandal of epic proportions._

" _Whatever [Dumbledore] intended, the fact remains that instead of aiding the lawful authorities, he subverted them, much as the Dark Lord did. Like the Dark Lord, Dumbledore chose to do what was easy, instead of what was right, raising what amounted to his own personal army and fighting a private war against those he_ suspected _to be Death Eaters. How many good wizards and witches died because of his selfishness? How many Aurors were lost because he believed he knew best?"_

 _How many lives were lost because of the Order's activities? How many more were ruined?_

 _Would the Potters have died if they had not been part of Dumbledore's society? Would the Longbottoms have been driven mad? Would the Bones family been nearly wiped out?_

 _We may never know._

 _What we do know is that Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Order, relaying the disposition of our Aurors directly to You-Know-Who for years, and that Albus Dumbledore never knew or suspected._

 _And when Sirius Black, an innocent man, was wrongfully accused of Pettigrew's crimes, Albus Dumbledore and Bartemius Crouch sentenced him to a lifetime in Azkaban without even a trial, ensuring that the Boy-Who-Lived grew up without his godfather._

 _When asked how he felt about the proceedings, the Boy-Who-Lived had only this to say:_

" _We all face the choice between what is right and what is easy. I just wish Bartemius Crouch and Albus Dumbledore had seen it in themselves to choose what was right."_

 _He expressed gratitude that the Ministry was taking responsibility for its actions, and a sense of grim satisfaction that the man who had betrayed his parents would receive the Dementor's Kiss._

" _There are people in the world who make honest mistakes and people who were forced against their will into doing terrible things. Peter Pettigrew is neither of these. Because of him, my parents died, and who knows how many others. He doesn't deserve to live, and he doesn't deserve the mercy of death."_

 _Aberforth Dumbledore and the family of Peter Pettigrew had no comment. Sirius Black could not be reached for comment._


	5. Onikuma

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 5.** _Onikuma_

The sudden blow tore Matou Shinji's head clean off the shoulders of his dozing form.

…or at least it would have, had the wand in his hand not discharged a bolt of silver flame that struck his assailant between the eyes, causing his assailant's first strike to go wild, the heavy paw slamming into the boy's arm with a _crack_ instead. The beast stumbled back with a roar of pain—

" _ **AOUGGHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

—with the young Matou wrenched from the embrace of slumber by sheer agony, his eyes going wide and his spine freezing as he was met with an immense black-furred creature out of nightmares looming before him, its golden eyes and wickedly sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the moon.

'… _onikuma.'_

Literally translated, the term meant "Demon Bear" – a rather apt moniker, given the creature's reputation for rock shattering strength, and propensity for violence, as noted in the _Field Guide to Japan's Youkai,_ which the boy had been reading before he…

'… _I fell asleep on watch. Sajyou-san is going to kill me.'_

Well, that was, if the bear didn't kill him first.

 _Fwhoom!_

It _moved_ with a speed belied by its immense form, with Shinji barely twisting out of the way of a blow that would have smashed him into paste, with the volley of Freezing Charms issuing from his hazel wand striking the great bear to no discernible effect.

" _ **AOUGGHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

Once more it roared, loosing a prana-laced howl that flung the boy through the air like a ragdoll, his body landing with a muffled _crump_ some distance from the campsite.

For Matou Shinji, the world exploded into a white haze of agony as he landed right on his broken arm, the jagged ends of his splintered bones tearing through his skin.

' _Seal!'_ he begged, with several of his ofuda flying from a pocket to cover his wound – holding the flesh together. It certainly wasn't healing magic, but at least it would keep the area immobilized. For now.

But the demonic, homicidal bear was coming at him again, intent on ripping the boy apart, or at least taking the marshmallow square in his pocket that he'd been saving for a snack, but had forgotten about.

'… _here goes nothing…'_

Levering himself upwards to face the foe, the boy unleashed all the explosive _ofuda_ he had upon the beast making its way towards him.

Paper filled the air, strips of sealed power pouring from his sleeves.

Strips glowing with inner light that homed in on their enemy, surging for the ursine form of the dangerous foe, detonating one after another in gouts of flame, light, and sheer concussive force.

For several long seconds, night was turned into day by the sheer quantity of explosions, but when the smoke and light cleared, the bear was unharmed.

Just very, very, angry.

'… _did it use its shout to block my ofuda?'_

But there was no time to think about it further. Not when an angry, two ton, magically resistant killing machine was barreling towards him, his usual countermeasures proving utterly useless against a creature of this caliber.

His wand spells shattered on its hide. The explosive _ofuda_ he'd unleashed upon it – the whole of his arsenal – had been blasted away by its prana-laced roar.

This was worse than fighting the troll during his first year.

Still…he didn't have to beat it, right? Any moment now, Sajyou-san and Luna would wake up and come to his aid – except he remembered then that he'd used one of his warding _ofuda_ on the tent he shared with Luna to block out all noise from outside.

Well, he could slow it down, surely.

Maybe he couldn't stop it with his ofuda, but if it stopped of its own accord to ward off what it thought was a threat…maybe he could buy a few precious seconds.

"Bind," Shinji whispered desperately, as he managed to stagger to his feet, his empowered talismans launching themselves towards the bear with a life of their own. "Bind. Bind. Bind. _Bind. Bind. Bind. Bind_!"

…seeing the mass of _ofuda_ headed its way, the bear stopped, sat up on its haunches and _**ROARED**_ , unleashing a torrent of sound and wind so powerful that his talismans were shredded in midair, and even Shinji was blown away.

' _What…?'_

His feeble attempts at resistance scattered, Shinji _ran_ , throwing himself aside to avoid the rush of the oncoming predator.

…but he wasn't fast enough, as he went sprawling to the ground once more, one of his legs crumpled and twisted by the force of a glancing blow.

He could see his bones protruding from his flesh, could feel a shock of what must have been pain. It was as if he was watching from somewhere outside himself, that these wounds were being suffered by someone else. Was this…shock?

This time, there was nowhere to run.

No way to harm it.

'… _wait. There's still something. I can't cast a spell on it…_.but I can still cast a spell on **me.** _'_

" _ **WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!**_ "

The cry issued from his lips with something like desperation, with his wand pointed not at the bear, but at his own form. For a second nothing happened, but then with a jerk, he began to rise into the air, out of the bear's reach.

In this way, his use of the Levitation Charm was similar to that of Jarleth Hobart, its creator, who had once charmed his clothes to lift _himself_ into the air – and had mistakenly thought that he had discovered how to fly without a broomstick, a feat that to this day, only the late Lord Voldemort had managed.

"Uro?"

The demon bear growled, rearing up on its hind legs as it swiped at the floating form of the boy, only to find that it wasn't nearly tall enough.

For now, Matou Shinji was safe, and with a moment's respite, his mind shifted into overdrive. How could he get himself out of this mess? How could he beat this _monster_?

' _Ok. So this is like fighting a magus. I can't target him directly with my spells. I'm going to have to try something else.'_

In a battle against things and beings which resisted the effects of foreign prana, one needed to use nature interference thaumaturgy – abilities which could cause harm to a foe by changing the world around it.

For Matou Shinji, this meant using his earth elemental ofuda, something he'd never had to use in battle before. Still, it was all he had, and he found himself hoping this would work, as a number of these talismans fluttered to the ground some distance away from the bear, as he knew the folly of targeting it directly.

The bear snarled, but ignored these as a threat as the floating form of the Matou boy poured his prana into loosing a dizzying array of spells upon the creature itself, keeping its attention away from his true attack.

The blue streaks of Knockback Jinxes.

The jagged green lightning of _Verdimillious Tria._

The red bolts of the Disarming Charm.

'… _Clay to stone, dirt to rock…harden.'_

Spell beams flew, tearing apart the darkness with their sheer power, ozone filling the air as cutting curses, severing charms, knockback jinxes and more crackled against the _youkai_ 's hide and fizzled out.

'… _Darkness within become the darkness without…'_

He was quickly growing dizzy from the rate at which he was throwing spells around, but he had no choice. Quickly, he loosed more _ofuda,_ letting those filled with the power of spirit and absorption fall to the ground, as he continued his barrage from above.

' _Stone. Ground become spikes. Ground become blades.'_

The enemy howled and roared, the resultant shockwaves buffeting Shinji where he hung in the sky, unable to avoid them, unable to move, but he pressed on.

' _The land. My fingers. My wrath…'_

His vision was beginning to narrow. Black spots danced before his eyes. Waves of dizziness swept over him…but the foe was still there, and he knew he had to pin it down.

Instinctively, Matou Shinji knew he'd only have chance at this – and if he failed…

' _I won't fail. Wrath. Blades. Cage…'_

He felt something deep inside him _fit_ for the first time, as the ground below him resonated, thrummed with a sense of power. Within the patch where his _ofuda_ had landed, the earth was his to command.

The preparations were complete

"… _ **Release!"**_

The burst of power caught the bear off guard, as sharpened spikes of stones coated with darkness exploded from the ground below, stabbing into its soft underbelly – and through it.

One spike.

A second.

A third.

A fourth.

A fifth.

Hurt seriously for the first time, the bear twisted, snapping some of these stakes of stone with its monstrous strength and pulling itself free – only for more to erupt from the ground. Spike, claws, a wall of stone.

The _onikuma_ lunged, its paw slamming forward to knock down the wall – only for the wall to open a hole in the paw's path, with a shackle of spikes bursting from its edges to impale the limb and hold the bear fast.

" _ **AOUGGHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

Roaring its defiance, the great bear slammed its bulk into the wall, knocking it down – but finding another wall in its path.

It turned.

Another wall rose up.

It turned again.

The earth rose up to trap it.

It blinked, seeing nowhere to go…and then it _screamed,_ a shriek of utter pain and anguish as innumerable spikes shot inwards from the containment walls, piercing it over and over and over with spears wrought of stone.

The onslaught continued, without pause, without mercy, as the creature thrashed and bucked and flailed, and slowly, its struggles slowed and its growls and screams faded into whimpers. The light in its eyes grew dim…and then the great bear's form _shattered_ into motes of light.

As the presence of the enemy faded, a surge of relief swept over Shinji as he hung in the air, nearly motionless himself. The creature that had tried to kill him had been torn apart, had become nothing more than...

' _Wait a minute…'_

 _Youkai_ didn't just…shatter, did they? Especially youkai that were also animals – like kitsune…or _onikuma_. Tsukumogami, spirits born from objects that had existed and maintained for over a century, might, or some of the various ghost-type youkai, but animals?

He frowned and focused his vision on the ground below, his mouth all but falling open as a small dog-like form crawled out of the prison of spikes, glaring baleful at him with glowing golden eyes.

'… _bakemono…'_

Literally meaning 'a thing that changes', it referred to shapeshifters, those _youkai_ thatwere capable of transforming into other things and other beings.

The most famous of these, of course, was the _kitsune –_ the foxes of Japan _,_ but there were others as well, like bakeneko (magical cats), _mujina (_ badgers), and _tanuki_ (raccoon dogs _)._

…one of the last of which was staring at him now.

'… _a tanuki? That demonic bear was a_ tanuki? _The beast that nearly killed me…was a_ tanuki _…?'_

He wanted to laugh, to cry, to ask it _why_ it had done this…but he couldn't. He felt his body growing weak, as the last of his prana drained away, and as his vision blurred, he could only watch as the creature limped away.

' _I can't…'_

He blinked, his eyes heavy as he hung many meters above the ground, not knowing how to get down.

' _I can't…'_

As he then closed his eyes, and felt himself…

 _…fall._

* * *

A fevered dream. A dream within a dream.

Cruel laughter and the smooth caress of skin.

The pounding of feet upon stone, rushing forward into the darkness, unable to stop, images, feelings, memories flickering past a moment at a time as howls and snarls and bays came closer, ever closer.

A cloying scent, somehow familiar, the woods and mist and _blood._

A wand in one hand, and the reassuring weight of a blade secured to the other.

Things he could not fight. Things no one could fight. Wounds, wounds in the world that could not be healed.

Laughter, musical and cheerful. Laughter, cruel and mocking.

Fear. Joy. Rage. Calm. Despair. Hope.

Contradictions. Contradictions.

The world shifted. The world shook. The world was falling apart beneath his feet, collapsing as he ran.

It would not obey. It would not bend. It would not be fixed.

The gnashing of teeth.

A howl of sorrow.

A shooting star.

What did one call those who had come before? Gods? Demons? What age was it that was restrained beneath the might of an ancient spear? What memories did one hold? What memories could be poured between vessels, from one to another?

 _Sch! Sch! Sch! Scht!_

The whispers called to him, but he dared not stop. The earth cracked open, the darkness welled up, and things wearing the shapes of creatures he once knew took form, and _smiled_.

He ran.

Out the exit, through the arch, into the silver glow.

And once more, at the precipice, he leaped.

* * *

In utter darkness, Matou Shinji bolted upright, wincing as his muscles screamed in protest at the sudden movement – as did his head, as his vision once again turned white. His breath ragged, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on where he was and what he knew, finding the solidity of the bed he was in rather reassuring.

A familiar bed at that, just like the comforting scent of the one who he shared it with. He still didn't sleep well around most people, finding them odd and their casual attitude towards their craft frankly terrifying, but over the weeks, he'd become accustomed to Luna, such that the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her, the closeness of her was almost…calming.

' _Lumos,'_ he whispered, as his hazel and coral wand lit up on the nightstand, illuminating his surroundings.

As he thought, he was in Luna's tent – with the blonde-haired girl herself dozing on a padded chair by the bed, wearing a set of pale grey pajamas that he thought rather suited her.

'… _was it all…a dream?'_

But then, if it had been, why was Luna sleeping in a chair beside the bed? Why was he here, and not on watch, since surely she would have woken him up?

Gingerly, he moved his left arm, finding that it was…functional if quite sore, as he threw off the sheets, he found that his leg – which he remembered being broken by the bear – was whole and hale, though he winced and could barely suppress a curse as it hurt when he moved it.

Perhaps he hadn't managed to suppress it completely though, as with a cute yawn and stretch, Luna Lovegood stirred from her slumber, her silver eyes taking note of him.

"Hullo, Matou Shinji," she said with a sleepy smile. "I see you've awakened."

Something about the way she said that gave him pause, and he swallowed.

"…was there some doubt I would?" he inquired. Shinji tried to smile, but his expression froze as a flash of something close to grief crossed Luna's countenance.

"You were unconscious for three days," came the surprising reply. "We weren't sure if you would wake up at all."

Three days?

But how? He remembered some incredibly vivid dreams of shadows and whispers, and beasts in a white realm that he thought might be the Arctic, but…

And then the memories came back to him.

Memories of a demonic bear that had savaged him. Memories of pushing himself to the limit – no, beyond his limit.

Memories of falling.

"The bear," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as he shivered. "So that wasn't a dream…only it wasn't a bear, was it?"

"A transformed _tanuki,_ hungry for food scraps," Luna helpfully confirmed, blinking away any hint of sleepiness as she made her way over to the bed and examined him, her fingers glowing with an all-too familiar amber light as she pressed them against the bare skin of his neck, his arms and other places. "She was surprised you defeated it, though she _was_ rather cross that you fell asleep on watch."

' _Ah…'_

Shinji was fairly certain Sajyou-san would have his hide for that later, but was curious about what Luna was doing. The feeling of her fingers on his skin was quite…distracting, but he forced himself to focus on what it was she was doing, and how the places her fingers brushed felt stronger, the aches fading away when she touched him.

…how he felt a new surge of vitality as she placed her hand over his heart.

"…are you the one who healed me?" he asked, his voice more subdued. The thought of her seeing him so utterly vulnerable bothered him for some reason. "I know Sajyou-san has been teaching you about the yang alignment, but…"

The kind of damage he had sustained during that kind of ordeal wasn't something that could be cured so easily. It had taken healers in St. Mungo's quite some time to patch him up after Quirrell got through with him, as he recalled…

"Oh no, she did the hard part," Luna answered, her eyes looking as if she was somewhere far away. "Fixing the most serious of your wounds, stopping the bleeding, fixing your limbs. After her familiar stopped you from hitting the ground, of course."

'… _stopped me from…ok. Note to self, that bird is stronger than I thought.'_

"…eek." So that _had_ happened. He was almost afraid to ask, but… "…how bad was it?"

"Compound fractures of your arm and leg. Fractured jaw. Cracked ribs." She spoke as if reciting from a list, her singsong voice much more solemn than usual. "Blood loss and bruising to your internal organs. Torn muscles and ligaments. Shock. And…" Luna paused for a moment, her cheeks going slightly pink. "…something she called prana depletion."

"Prana depletion…" Shinji echoed, his face – no, his whole body flushing beet red. That…was something rather serious, and from what he had read, the ways of transferring prana generally involved…

' _Bodily fluids. Blood being a common one. Or those exchanged in tantric rituals…'_

In that moment, he was quite, quite aware of both the closeness and femininity of Luna Lovegood, knowing that she could feel his heart pounding in his chest, under her delicate hand, as his grey eyes looked into hers.

"I…" he said, his mouth dry. "I…how…did she…?"

"She didn't," Luna replied in a rather fey voice, her fingers brushing him softly. "I did."

"You…" Shinji swallowed, his cheeks burning. He was certain he must look something like a tomato at the moment, but he didn't really care. "Then you and…I…"

"You almost died, so I gave you some of my vitality – my _yang_ ," she said quietly, as her free hand found one of his. "Sajyou-san had already healed the physical damage, but a shell doesn't matter if there isn't anything inside."

"…how?"

"Just like this," she answered, squeezing his hand as he found it wrapped in an amber glow as well. "And a bit of blood." Luna Lovegood laughed quietly, a sound like bells tinkling in the night, her lips curving up into a mischievous smile. "Don't worry, Matou. I didn't take your innocence."

Despite everything he'd been through, and the close brush with death, Shinji couldn't help but laugh. There was something about his companion that was so utterly refreshing after dealing with most other people. In many ways, he was glad she was the one here with him, since in this area, she knew far more than him. Hermione probably wouldn't have known the first thing about camping, and he doubted she would be nearly as understanding about his Yin abilities – or Ayaka's. And given his teacher's propensity for disproportionate responses to aggression, he had concerns that Hermione might not have…well, done very well.

…the other alternative, Tohsaka Rin, coming along on a month long journey…well, she wouldn't question Ayaka, probably, but he could already see some friction. And well, his inability to cook or do many of these other tasks might diminish him in her eyes, which he didn't want.

With them, he cared – much – about how he looked, how he seemed, the aura he presented. With very few people – Sokaris, and now Luna, was he comfortable letting them see who he really was – the boy behind the titles.

So he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it in the way of a proper gentleman.

"Thank you," he said simply. "For saving my life and for being a really good friend." Then he smiled impishly himself, though his cheeks continued to burn. "Though I wouldn't have minded if you had."

He didn't have a chance to say anything else before the flap of the tent opened, with a rather frazzled Sajyou Ayaka entering, carrying a tray with a bowl of something fragrant – something that looked and smelled utterly divine.

Some kind of noodle soup made with mostly fresh ingredients. Herbs, roots, and more harvested along the long hike, along with a yogurt with fresh berries and pumpkin spice granola.

"Ah. So you are awake, Matou," the bespectacled Witch noted, glancing at the joined hands of the boy and his companion. "And Lovegood is…refilling your prana. That is a pleasant development."

She walked over and placed the tray on a table near Luna, before turning back to the hapless boy.

"Next time, if you having trouble falling staying awake during watch, _inform me,"_ Ayaka noted, her features hard and harsh as the howling winds of winter. "Doing otherwise endangers not only yourself, but the rest of us, which as I have said, I _do not_ find acceptable." Her cold eyes met his, making Shinji flinch at what he saw there. "Is that clear, Matou Shinji?"

"…yes. Yes, Sajyou-san," he said, looking down. "I'm…"

He didn't know what to say. Choosing to read during his watch might not have been the wisest possible decision, he conceded, especially as he _had_ fallen asleep.

"I've said this before," the other noted. "Do not apologize. Learn."

"…I will do that."

"Three days," Ayaka continued, her annoyance unabated. "You were unconscious for three days, Matou. Do you know that the entire time, your companion waited by your side to see if you would wake up? Do you know how worried she was? That she gave her own vitality to save your life?"

Shinji swallowed, as the air seemed to grow heavy around him, the rest of the tent – the rest of the world – fading, except for the accusing eyes of the _kitsune_ 's apprentice.

"The only reason you are not already back at _Mahoutokoro_ is because my Master – _and_ your companion – both said you should receive a second chance," the magus noted clinically. "There _will not_ be a third." She glanced over at the wand of hazel, still aglow on the nightstand. "Beyond the healing, the only reason you are still alive is because of that wand acting on its own."

"…I…how do you…"

"I examined your memory, and your wand. In that way, I suppose it is fortunate you were so very frustrated about your cooking, as it infused your wand with power that needed to be released – and was, against that _tanuki._ But then, that is what wands of hazel do – they are sensitive to emotions. Fear, anger, hate make your offensive spells more powerful, but impair healing and transformation; a calm mind allows you to better defend; joy makes repair and transfiguration easier."

"…yes, I did gather that much. It also casts faster than the wand you took from me, but is less powerful in general," Shinji noted, looking down. "I _have_ been trying, Sajyou-san."

There was silence for a moment, before the bespectacled girl's voice softened ever so slightly.

"I know, Matou. I will say that your control of earth has certainly improved," she conceded, nodding slightly. "And that you being able to defeat the transformed _tanuki_ was somewhat impressive, since it takes on some of the abilities of the form it borrows."

"…it resisted the spells I cast on it."

"Most powerful youkai will," Ayaka explained. "You were raised in a magus family, so you are aware of mystery, and how potent of a defense it is."

"Indeed. I'll keep that in mind."

With that, the pressure lifted, and the young woman's palm lit up with amber light. She ran it above his body with a grunt, and let the light flicker out.

"You seem to be mostly recovered – or so it would seem if you and your companion have time to play about," the bespectacled magus commented, reaching into a pouch and handing Shinji the _Field Guide to Japan's Youkai_. "Since you have nothing else to do, finish reading the book. On the morrow we will resume our journey east – and we will work on your training further."

Shinji felt a frisson of fear at that. Ordinarily, she was a difficult enough taskmaster. How hard would she drive him after this...?

"Lovegood?"

"Yes, Sajyou-san?"

"You may stay with Matou today," Ayaka intoned, her eyes flicking over to the seated girl. "Ensure that he remains stable and do try not to have him engage in anythingtoo… _strenuous."_

Shinji felt himself blush once more, from his head to his toes at the implications of that. Why did everyone tease him about these things?

"Oh, I won't do anything that Matou doesn't want me to," Luna replied reasonably, twining her fingers with his. "You can trust me with that, Sajyou-san."

Ayaka sighed in exasperation.

"That's what I was afraid of."

With that she strode out of the tent, leaving Shinji alone with his odd companion.

* * *

That night, after Luna shared a meal with him, he managed to walk over to the campfire with her help. There, Luna introduced him to the concept of S'mores, showing him how to roast marshmallows and sandwich them between graham crackers and chocolate.

His first few attempts ended in disaster, with what had once been marshmallows turning into lumps of charcoal and ash, resulting in peals of laughter from Luna. But she'd shared some of hers with him, and afterwards, they'd read together, talking about the _youkai_ of the land, the year to come, and what kind of familiars they would like to find and see, talking long into the night before they drifted off to sleep _,_ leaning against each other's shoulders.

Sajyou Ayaka shook her head and covered the two sleeping figures with a blanket so they'd stay warm, before looking up into the sky.

"Watch over them, Yatagarasu," she said softly. "Keep them safe tonight."

There was an answering caw from above, and with that, she too retired for the evening. For it would be a long day tomorrow, and for many tomorrows to come.


	6. Close Encounters of the Deathly Kind

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 6.** _Close Encounters of the Deathly Kind_

Though she found herself wandering through the sun-drenched lands of Egypt, taking in the sights and sounds of the country with so much _history,_ where witches and wizards had first arisen, according to everything she'd read, Hermione Granger didn't feel particularly excited.

True, finally seeing the Giza Necropolis in all its glory was something special, given that the Great Pyramid of Giza was the only remaining Ancient Wonder of the World and the mysteries about Great Sphinx had long fascinated her even before she learned that things like magic and magical beasts were real.

In another time, another place, the young Ravenclaw imagined would have felt a sense of wonder at finally seeing this ancient land and exploring its rich past, but as she looked across the sands towards the sprawling city of Giza in the distance, she felt…strangely empty.

Numb, in a way.

Because when she was numb – or at least distracted by reading or work – she didn't have to feel anything at all. That was how she normally dealt with the small disappointments and hurts of life: she found something else to do, something else to focus on.

Things like making sure she was at the top of her classes.

Things like developing her potioneering skills with the _Book of Potions._

Things like the kindness shown to her by Matou Shinji, her closest friend after…

She swallowed, stumbling to a halt as a face flashed through her mind – the image of a sharp-eyed girl with purple hair and bronzed skin who had hailed from these lands.

The face of Sialim Sokaris, her late, first friend.

The first person to truly accept her as she was and find value in her as a person – not just in what she could do, like almost everyone in her life had before.

Being here in the girl's homeland, on vacation, to boot, there was no escape from the memories.

She kept wondering what it would have been like if Sokaris were here. How her friend might look at her with that odd expression that passed for pride. The other's odd sense of humor. What the other might have said about the ruins of Ancient Egypt.

"Hermione, dear, are you alright?" a voice called to her – her mother's voice. While Hermione was more bookish than athletic, she had never had trouble keeping up before, and with Egypt being one of her favorite places since she was small, it was odd she wasn't more excited about finally coming here. "Hermione?"

"I…I'm fine," the girl replied after a long beat. "Really."

Hermione even managed a small smile as she began walking again, but there was something brittle about her expression, as if it were made of naught but sunbaked clay. Her mother knew that smile, having seen it too many times when something had gone wrong in school – someone had been mean to her, or someone she thought was her friend had insisted on copying her homework, or some such.

But she hadn't seen it in a while, not since her daughter went to Hogwarts and made good friends. Hermione had written about them at length: Sialim Sokaris – the only girl her daughter had ever really been intimidated by academically, and Matou Shinji – a mysterious, but popular Oriental boy who apparently knew much about magic...and studied more than she did.

She'd teased her daughter about having her first crush, which a flustered Hermione had emphatically denied, but she hadn't missed how happy her daughter was when she received gifts from the two of them – the first time any of her classmates had ever given her a gift, or how Hermione had been so very nervous about her friends liking the presents she gotten them in return.

Midway through the second term, Hermione had stopped writing home.

And when she came home for the summer, she was as quiet as before she went to Hogwarts, throwing herself into finishing her homework as if keeping something at bay. On questioning, Hermione hadn't said much, only telling her parents that Matou had ended up in the wizarding hospital in serious condition after doing something heroic – and that she was worried about him.

Besides her work, the young Ravenclaw had been detached from everything – and everyone, only growing livelier as a new year at Hogwarts neared. She'd even started writing again, with her letters talking at length about her lessons with the _Book of Potions_ , the oddness of her severe History Professor, and of course, Matou Shinji _._ She'd written enough, in fact, that her mother had suggested that Hermione should invite her friends over for Christmas, since they would like to meet them – especially the boy who had captured their daughter's heart.

She'd mentioned that Shinji had to go back to Japan over the holidays, but had not mentioned anything about her other friend, the girl named Sokaris.

Had something happened? Had they perhaps had a falling out?

They didn't know, as she'd never mentioned it. She wrote of how the headmaster had died, and the hubbub around that event, how her friend Matou apparently made the front page when he and the Boy-Who-Lived, the latter being effectively Magical Britain's savior, backed their Head of House as Headmaster, and how excited she was to be chosen as one of the founding members of the Ourea, an elite society of future leaders.

Her parents were quite proud, of course, as they knew their daughter was destined for great things, and in celebration of her accomplishments, had made arrangements to visit Egypt to visit during their annual holiday abroad, since Hermione had always dreamed of visiting that ancient land.

Only now that they were here, Hermione seemed indifferent to everything and everyone. She didn't talk unless she was spoken to, where she'd normally be the first to share a tidbit – or correct a mistake. She didn't show much interest in the old ruins she'd written about for many an assignment. She barely touched her food.

Every step she took seemed _heavy_ , as if she was forcing herself forward, as if she could not bear to explore this mysterious land she had once loved from afar.

Being frank, she couldn't, because every step _hurt_ , reminding her that her friend was no longer with her. Having come to this place that Sialim Sokaris had once called home, there was no more running from that truth.

No work to do to distract her. No Matou Shinji – or his letters – to fixate on, or to provide an odd sort of comfort, as he had been Sokaris' friend too, and had known her better than _she_. Or so it seemed, as he'd been there from the beginning of that year, to…to…the incident when Sokaris…when Sokaris…

…when the Dark Wizard attacked.

It had happened without any warning. One day, Sokaris had been in class discussing some concepts of Herbology with her, and the next…the mysterious girl who had accepted her for who and what she was had vanished, leaving behind only a broken wand.

No body. No letters. No last effect she knew of.

Nothing to say goodbye to.

As if she'd never existed at all.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Hermione Granger collapsed, falling to her hands and knees in the middle of the Necropolis, her body quaking as a cry of utter loss and desolation passed her lips. _Gone._ It wasn't about blame this time, wasn't about the irrational sense guilt that in wishing Sokaris were gone so Matou would pay attention to her, she had caused the other's death.

She'd cried once in the last year. She'd thought she was worthless, that no one would want to stay with someone like her, someone thoughtless. Someone _selfish._ Someone crying not out of loss, but out of terror at the thought of a world without limits, seeking someone to cling to so she wouldn't have to be alone.

This was different.

For the first time since Sokaris' death, Hermione Granger was finally grieving for _her late best friend_ , her face twisted into an ugly expression she hoped no one could see as she cried out her grief for the world to hear, with hot, heavy tears dripping onto the ground below.

'… _Sokaris…'_

A year's worth of pain, bottled up inside. A year's worth of denial, finally denied. A year's worth of bitterness, loneliness, and heartache.

'… _Sokaris…'_

A year's worth of sobs, and a year's worth of tears.

Free.

* * *

Over the years, he'd wondered what it would be like to finally avenge himself on the one who had betrayed the Potters – on the one who had betrayed _Lily._ For over a decade, he'd believed Sirius Black was the one to blame, that that _would be murderer_ had turned to the Dark Lord after all, like the rest of his family.

…until he'd summoned the shade of Lily Evans with the Resurrection Stone at the close of the last school term.

And she'd slapped him.

Again. And again. And again.

He didn't remember how many times she hit him, but he didn't make a move to stop her.

Seeing her again, feeling her touch on his skin – even if it was in anger, even if her touch was so much less substantial than a body, just barely more solid than a ghost – was a miracle enough in itself that he wanted to weep with joy.

But at last, she'd stopped, trembling with something that seemed like fury, grief, and disappointment all at once.

"Why, Severus?" she'd asked quietly, as he simply stood there, looking at the form of the woman he'd loved – still loved, more than anything in the world – as if he couldn't believe she was there. She looked just as he remembered. Only 21 years old when she'd been struck down. Killed because of that never-sufficiently-enough damned prophecy. Because of a traitor in the Order.

And because of _him._

"Why?" she'd pressed.

But he had no answer.

"Was it because I was just a _mudblood_?" she'd asked sharply, looking at the man before her, a man whose face was lined with cares and regret. "Or because you couldn't stand seeing me with a man you _hated_?"

"Lily…"

"James was a good man, Severus! He didn't deserve to die like that. And Harry…growing up with…my _sister…_ "

"I am sorry about your son," he'd responded after a moment, his voice bleak and filled with sorrow enough to overflow an ocean's banks. "But…Potter…" At the mention of his old enemy, his features hardened despite himself. "You never saw his vilest acts. You say you made excuses for me – what about for him? He tried to kill me back at Hogwarts!"

All the greasy-haired potions master could do was shake his head and look away, regretting his tone immediately.

"No. Forgive me. I shouldn't have…"

"There are many things 'you shouldn't have'," the redhead had said, her voice bitter and cold as she looked at the man who had once been her best friend – until he turned to the Dark. "You shouldn't have told Voldemort of the prophecy, for one, even if it was Pettigrew who sold us out."

"You're right." With those two words, Snape had interrupted the coming tirade. "I shouldn't have. It is one of the things I regret to this day." But then he had spoken further, feeling that he needed to defend himself in some way. "Still, I didn't know he meant _you._ "

Whatever sympathy Lily might have had evaporated, as she turned the full force of her glare upon the wretched man who stood before her – the one who had called her from death into the world of the living, where it hurtjust to _exist_.

"…that's what this is about, isn't it?" she'd whispered, a mixture of horror and revulsion writ large across her features. "Your obsession with me. You want me to forgive you, even though you don't regret costing my son a normal childhood. You don't regret the death of James, or anyone else who you killed. You don't even regret tormenting Petunia. You just called me into this place, tearing me away from the afterlife and making me feel pain once again, because you want me to say that you did the right thing. Well, _I won't,_ you selfish, selfish, man."

Snape had barely been able to keep standing as Lily's words tore into him, her accusations ripping into his soul like a thousand white-hot knives – because they were true.

If he was completely honest, he wouldn't have cared about the sins he'd committed, about the cost in others' lives. He wouldn't mind if the rest of the world had burned to ash, not if she were safe.

"…yes," he'd admitted, his voice hoarse and raw and trembling. Somehow though, he found it in himself not to look away, his black eyes looking into hers. "But Lily…you wouldn't have regretted it if the Longbottoms or some other family had died instead of you and your husband."

"That's a damned lie, Severus! I would…" But Lily had found herself unable to continue with that line of thought. "Have it your way then. As I said once, you've chosen your way, I've chosen mine. Reap what you have sown."

"Lily…"

" _Reap what you have sown_."

With those last words, the shade had fallen silent and closed her eyes, the edges of her summoned form shaking with pain that could not be suppressed.

"Lily…"

No matter how many times Severus Snape had called her name, the shade had not answered, until defeated, the Potions Master of Hogwarts had let the Resurrection Stone slip from his fingers, clattering to the ground as the specter disappeared to the land of the dead once more, leaving the man terribly, unbearably alone.

* * *

In the month since, he'd temporarily acquired the Cloak of Invisibility from the young Harry Potter, in exchange for giving the boy access to the _Book of Potions_ , so he could learn something over the summer without undue attention from the Ministry. But though he now possessed all three of the Deathly Hallows, he hadn't noticed too many changes.

Well, save for seeing shadows of those who had passed away trailing behind those who had killed them, a visible sign of one's crimes and karmic debts. He'd become aware of them when he took hold of both the Stone and the Wand, and had seen countless ghostly echoes in the mirror, reminding him of what he had done – of who he used to be.

 _Reap what you have sown…_

The words echoed in his mind, a painful reminder that he could never escape that past, that no matter how hard he tried, those choices had helped to define him. His hands would never be washed clean.

But then, he'd been able to see such echoes around others as well, and had been… _profoundly disturbed_ at the number around Gilderoy Lockhart. Severus Snape had never thought much of the other man, given the stories and desire for popularity that the so-called adventurer seemed to bear, but his new _vision_ gave him pause.

For if he was correct, the Professor of History had taken a great many lives – almost as many as Alastor Moody (who had had a much longer career) or Lucius Malfoy, both of which had fought in Britain's Wizarding War.

The Potions Master had thought there must be some mistake, that perhaps what he was seeing was not death, given that Quirinus Quirrell's form did not hang over Potter or the other Stone Cutters, and nor of course, did the form of their late friend. Of course, there was an argument to be made that Quirrell bore sole responsibility for both of those deaths, and thus Potter bore no responsibility for what happened, but he wondered all the same…

At least, until he had been invited by Harry Potter to witness Peter Pettigrew being kissed by a Dementor, and had seen the faces of the Order – of many of those who had died in the war – including Lily – hanging about the maimed wizard's form.

Proof that _Pettigrew_ had been the traitor after all.

…and that Black had been innocent.

He – like everyone else – had assumed that Pettigrew was harmless, a spineless toady who hung around the…Marauders because Black and Potter had a knack for using people, for committing crimes and never being caught. But apparently, Pettigrew had been his own creature all along, and had used the others, playing on their trust to learn their secrets – and then betraying them all to the Dark Lord.

…a cunning plan, that, and one that Severus Snape might have appreciated, had he remained loyal to the Dark Lord. Only Snape had not, betraying the Dark Lord, turning away from everything he wanted, from those he had called his friends and allies, because he wanted to save one person, while Pettigrew's actions had doomed that person to death, leaving him hollow.

Even witnessing the traitor receive the Dementor's Kiss, with his body consigned to the flames, failed to elicit much of a reaction from the wizard. For so long he'd dreamed of vengeance, but in the end, what did it grant him? Nothing. No release. No sense of peace or comfort. Not when Lily hated him, when she would never forgive him for the things he'd done. Not when his heart had been torn into yawning abyss by the fresh memory of grief – and the look of revulsion that had crossed the face of his longtime love when she looked at him.

There was nothing more for him. Nothing but his duty.

So, sometime after the execution, he found himself in his home at Spinner's End, walking aimlessly across the fields he had once roamed with his first – perhaps only – friend. He'd been alone before then, neglected by his parents, beaten by his drunk father, wanting to escape.

For so long, she was the only one who cared at all if he lived or died. She thought he was special, called him friend, when everyone else – even her _sister_ , thought he was strange. To be fair, he'd never been the best at getting along with others, because he'd never had a good role model for it, but…

If he could do it all over, he would have chosen differently. Perhaps he would have asked the Hat to place him in Ravenclaw instead of a Slytherin, where his odd knowledge of spells might have been appreciated, without the stigma of being sorted into the so-called "Dark" House. Perhaps he would not have called Potter's choice of Gryffindor one for those wishing to be 'brawny' rather than 'brainy'. Perhaps…

Severus sighed, sitting alone in the empty house.

' _Master of Death…eh?'_

So the legends called anyone who was fortunate enough to possess all the Hallows, but Snape hadn't noticed much of a difference between holding two and three pieces of the set. In the end, he figured that if the legends about Death were real, that he might as well test whether he was indeed its Master, by Resurrection Stone in his hand and turned it about three times.

"Death," he whispered. "Death."

And then he knew no more.

* * *

When he came to, the Potions Master opened his eyes to find himself standing under a black sky studded with cold bright stars, no sign of anyone else as far as the eye could see, only the barren black sand of an endless desert.

 _SEVERUS SNAPE_.

The voice, if one could call it that, issued from all around him, reminding him of nothing so much as the slamming of coffin lids.

He turned about, reaching instinctively for his wand – only to find it gone – and that there was no one there.

 _BE NOT AFRAID, MORTAL. YOU ARE PAST THE AGENCY OF SCREAMS._

And as if born from the darkness, a figure materialized before him: a grinning skeleton in a very tattered black robe, wielding a scythe that gleamed in the cold light of the stars. A figure of fear and legend, from whom every mote of essence in his body, every cell, every atom _screamed_ at him to run.

Only he could not, for his legs would not move.

Not in this place that was no place, where things like light, color, sound, and more were only illusion

"…Death," he whispered in horrified fascination. Merlin. Was it true then? Had the Peverells indeed met with Death?

…and was this all about to become very academic, given that he apparently had not summoned Death – but had been summoned _by_ Death?

Too late, he remembered that the Stone had been requested by the Cadmus Peverell, the second of the brothers, who had sought to humiliate Death – and that for his affront, he had paid dearly.

 _SO SOME HAVE CALLED ME,_ came the reply, like two slabs of concrete rubbing against one another. _HARRY POTTER BEING THE LAST IN RECENT MEMORY._

Snape blinked.

"…when did Harry cross your path?" he asked guardedly.

The skeletal figure chuckled, or at least Snape thought it was a chuckle, given that it sounded more like a mountain collapsing.

 _AFTER THE ONE YOU CALLED QUIRRELL DESTROYED THE HORCRUX WITHIN THE BOY. A SPECIAL CASE, THAT. YOU WIZARDS DO LOVE YOUR MESSES._

This further confused him, as he didn't think Death was so…helpful or talkative. The version he remembered from the _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ was much more sinister – the anthropomorphic personification of the end of all things, who had felt _cheated_ that Peverell brothers had avoided a grisly fate in a dangerous river, and had given them gifts that ended up destroying them.

The Deathly Hallows themselves.

And yet this one did not seem overly bothered by things like Horcruxes, which were specifically designed to keep one's soul anchored to the mortal plane – out of His grasp.

"Why are you telling me this?" the wizard inquired, suspicious. He'd always believed in the image of thought of Death as a being that was cruel and vicious, so Him giving out information so readily discomfited him. Greatly in fact.

 _SPEAKING OF SOMEONE'S INTERESTS IS ONLY POLITE,_ the Grim Reaper explained simply, OR SO _I READ IN_ **HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE**.

"How to win friends and…?"

 _A GOOD BOOK. I RECOMMEND IT._

"I…see," Snape said after a few minutes. This wasn't at all what he'd expected from the embodiment of the end. "Am I…dead then?"

 _NO. YOU ARE HAVING A NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE._

"From what…?" The botched summoning, perhaps, or…?

 _CURIOSITY. YOU HAVE BROUGHT THE THREE TOGETHER, AND ATTEMPTED TO SUMMON ME. MOST PREFER TO STAY FAR AWAY._

"I was…curious," Snape admitted.

 _AS WAS I. SO A NEAR-SNAPE EXPERIENCE FOLLOWED._

The Grim Reaper waved fingers of bone, and a table and two chairs, with the former laden with a plain white table cloth, black tapers that glowed with blue flame, and…two bowls of what looked and smelled much like a fragrant goat curry.

 _CARE FOR A BOWL?_ The Grim Reaper asked, as Severus Snape just nodded, finding that he was now able to move. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he had sampled a hallucinogenic potion made by the Weasleys Twins.

Gingerly, he sat down on the conjured chair, not quite trusting it, though frankly, he was more fascinated by the fact the Death apparently could eat food, despite having no stomach, no tongue to taste with, and so forth.

"…what does it taste like to you?" he asked out of morbid curiosity.

 _LIKE BITING A RED-HOT ICE CUBE._

"Ah," Snape uttered. It wasn't usual he was at a loss for words, but this could not be called a usual situation even if one were to stretch the word beyond any reasonable meaning it had. "I do not believe I've had curry before."

 _SURPRISING, GIVEN HOGWARTS IS IN SCOTLAND._

"I see." There was silence for some minutes as the Potions Master tried the dish, his eyebrows rising when he found it actually wasn't bad, with the hint of spice and heat being rather pleasant given the desert's chill. "You are…different from what I expected."

 _NO DOUBT YOU READ_ **THE TALES OF BEEDLE THE BARD.**

"…well, yes."

 _YOU SHOULD NOT BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ._

Sitting before Death Himself, Severus Snape did not feel like a learned wizard and a master of his craft, but a mere schoolboy just playing with things far beyond his comprehension. Like Death, for example, and what this place was…this place that was no place…

"Tell me the true story then."

 _I DO NOT UNDERSTAND HUMANS. THEY BAFFLE AND INTRIGUE ME, ESPECIALLY HOW THEY COMPLICATE THEIR OWN EXISTENCE. BUT YOU MEAN THE PEVERELLS._

"Yes."

 _POWERFUL WIZARDS, BUT VERY DIFFERENT FROM ONE ANOTHER. ALONE THEY COULD NOT HAVE SURVIVED THE RIVER CROSSING, AS NONE HAD THE STRENGTH TO CONJURE A BRIDGE AS THEY DID. MANY HAD LOST THEIR LIVES IN STUBBORNNESS, BELIEVING THEY COULD SUCCEED ALONE, AS THERE WAS LITTLE TRUST IN THOSE DAYS OF WAR._

There was a nearly imperceptible shift, and Snape had the uncomfortable feeling that Death was studying him.

 _AS DIFFERENT AS THEY WERE, THOSE THREE WORKED TOGETHER AND SURVIVED. I WAS…CURIOUS._

"Curious, you say?"

 _INDEED. IN THOSE DAYS, IT WAS EASIER FOR ME TO APPEAR, AS BELIEF WAS THICKER, AND THE AGE OF GODS HAD NOT YET FULLY SLIPPED AWAY. AND AS BEINGS LIKE MYSELF SOMETIMES DO, I OFFERED GIFTS._

"The Hallows."

 _I GAVE TO THEM WHAT THEY ASKED. TO ANTIOCH PEVERELL, A PEERLESS WAND WORTHY OF A WIZARD WHO HAD CONQUERED DEATH - AND SO SOON LEFT HIM AS HE WAS NOT WORTHY OF_ _ **IT**_ _. TO CADMUS, A STONE WHICH COULD BRING THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD INTO THE WORLD OF THE LIVING. ALAS, TO GIVE THEM FLESH AGAIN IS BEYOND MY POWER, AS HE SOON LEARNED, GOING MAD. AND TO THE THIRD, IGNOTUS, I GAVE HIM A CLOAK AND LEFT HIM ALONE, AS HE ASKED._

"So you…didn't mean to take your revenge on them for defying you?" Snape questioned, with Death looking at him oddly. "For not dying at the crossing as so many others had?"

 _I TAKE NO JOY IN SEEING THE END OF LIVES, SEVERUS SNAPE, AND I DO NOT KILL. I SIMPLY COLLECT SOULS AT THE APPOINTED TIME AND GUIDE THEM TO WHERE THEY WISH TO GO. CRUELTY, MALICE, VENGEANCE ARE FOREIGN TO ME, FOR I AM NOT HUMAN. I AM THE ONE ALL THINGS COME TO IN THE END, FOR BEFORE THE ULTIMATE REALITY, ALL THINGS ARE BUT ILLUSIONS THAT WILL ONE DAY FLICKER OUT, LIKE CONJURED OBJECTS RETURNING TO NOTHINGNESS ONCE MORE._

"I…see."

That was difficult to process, and if it were true, then didn't that mean that Voldemort, who feared Death more than anything else in the world, would find his quest futile in the end?

 _EVERYTHING IN EXISTENCE HAS AN IMPERFECTION. HUMANS AND LIVING THINGS, CERTAINLY, BUT EVEN AIR, WILL, AND TIME. ALL THAT HAS A BEGINNING HAS AN END. I WAS THERE WHEN THE FIRST LIFE FADED, AND I WILL BE WHEN THE LAST FLICKERS OUT._

"Then…there is no such thing as being a Master of Death…is there?" Snape muttered in dismay. Did that mean everyone who had sought the Hallows had done so in vain? That there was no benefit to holding all three?

 _THERE IS NOT_ , the Grim Reaper confirmed, the skeleton's empty eye-sockets regarding the wizard before him as if seeing into his very thoughts. _BUT BRINGING THE THREE TOGETHER DOES CONFER SOME BENEFITS, JUST AS THE BROTHERS WERE STRONGEST TOGETHER, AND APART, QUICKLY FELL._

"What are they then?"

Snape had lost his appetite, if he'd ever really had much of one in the first place. Dumbledore's obsession for – quest for the Hallows. His directive. What did that even mean now?

 _YOU HAVE SEEN THE ECHOES OF THINGS PAST, THE TIES OF ACTION AND CONSEQUENCE. THAT IS THE BENEFIT OF THE WAND AND THE STONE TOGETHER. THE WAND AND THE CLOAK ALLOW ONE TO SEE THROUGH CONCEALMENT INTO THE TRUTH OF THINGS – FOR ALL THINGS HAVE A NATURAL END. THE CLOAK AND THE STONE ALLOW ONE TO SUMMON THE SPIRITS OF THOSE THAT HAVE PASSED IN A MORE SOLID FORM, WITHOUT CAUSING THEM PAIN._

"…and all three?"

A low rumble sounded that Snape could only think was the imitation of a laugh, if far more terrifying.

 _THEN, SEVERUS SNAPE, THE KILLING CURSE HOLDS NO DANGER FOR YOU._

Snape just blinked, his features twisting into a puzzled mask.

"…but I thought you said all things die in the end."

 _INDEED. AND YOU, LIKE ALL OTHERS WILL ONE DAY DIE. SHOULD YOU TRULY OWN THE THREE, YOU MAY RECEIVE AN IMMUNITY TO THE KILLING CURSE, OR OTHER SPELLS THAT IMPOSE THE CONCEPT OF DEATH, BUT YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO OTHER CURSES, OR TO DEATH FROM MERE…INJURY._

"I see."

With that, the table, chairs, meal, and desert faded, with the Potions Master of Hogwarts standing before the embodiment of the end in a strange expanse. A sea of white – no, not white, only what his eyes told him was supposed to be white, as they refused to process what was really there, his mind reeling from the reality of was all around him – the _nothing_ that was all around him.

This was something humans couldn't comprehend, were not made to comprehend, a place that wasn't a place, that didn't wear the illusion of a place.

 _YOU ARE A CURIOUS MORTAL, WITH REGRET COMPOUNDED UPON REGRET, SEVERUS SNAPE. ONE DAY WE WILL MEET AGAIN, AND YOU WILL REAP WHAT YOU HAVE SOWN._

Severus Snape knew that his time in this strange otherworld was coming to an end, that in a moment, Death would release him and he would return to the place he had left. He knew that he only had one chance to ask further questions.

"Is there justice in the afterlife?" he inquired of the Grim Reaper. "A heaven or a hell?"

 _THERE IS NO JUSTICE. THERE'S JUST ME, AND THE DESERT THROUGH WHICH EACH MUST WALK ALONE._

"…like life."

 _EXACTLY._

In the place that was no place, Severus Snape fell, sinking deeper, deeper, deeper still…

…until at last he awoke, finding himself in the home at Spinner's End, the world never seeming more solid than it had at that moment.

' _I'm…alive…'_

* * *

By the time Hermione Granger achieved some semblance of calm again, the sun had set, with the desert winds blowing gently across the sands. Explained to her parents why she had broken down, which entailed a tear-streaked explanation of what had happened to Sokaris and how this had been her home, took longer still.

She still felt pain, still felt hollow, but in admitting it to herself, she'd taken the first steps towards finally healing, though she did freeze up at the sight of a dark-skinned woman in purple crossing her path, especially as the other wore long purple hair bundled in a braid, and moved in a way that reminded her of her late friend.

' _No…it's not her,'_ the brunette told herself. ' _Sokaris wasn't that old…'_

And wouldn't have been, even if she'd lived.

As she and her parents headed back into the city towards their hotel, she found herself drawn to an odd storefront which was still lit – if one that no one else seemed to notice – and walked in, though her parents did not, seeming confused as to where she had gone.

' _Muggle repelling charms?'_

She went outside again, to her parents' relief, as they thought she had just disappeared. Taking their hands, she pulled them through the doorway into the shop, where an odd storekeeper – a woman with her features concealed by a hooded robe of olive green and gold – greeted them.

"Welcome to the _Giant's Pit_ ," the other said in accented, if perfectly understandable English, waving her hand about. "You have come a long way, travelers."

"How did you know…?" Hermione asked, curious. Was this possibly a Seer or…?

"This is Giza, a place where many tourists come, and you are a foreigner," the other replied simply, with Hermione conceding that that was true enough. "And a practitioner of Witchcraft at that."

"What do you sell here?" Hemione's father questioned, looking about at what looked like an assortment of artifacts, paintings, and even a few pets.

"Trinkets, mostly. Sometimes a wand. Sometimes a pet, depending on what is needed," the other noted, as her cool purple eyes regarded the party. "Was there anything you desired?"

Hermione ended up buying a black cat with strange red eyes, which she named _Sy-k-ri_ , in honor of her late friend, after the anguished cry of Osiris as he was about to slip away into the darkness. Sokaris' name was based on the falcon god Seker, after all, the great bird of the underworld who moved between the worlds of life and death – of night and day – freely.

In this place, this land, she would remember her friend. She would cry, she would laugh, and she would not run from the truth.

Perhaps that was why, with the cat snuggled up beside her that night, for the first time in a long while, Hermione Granger did not feel...so very incomplete.


	7. Journey's End

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 7.** _Journey's End_

There had been no more night attacks following the ambush by the _tanuki_.

Perhaps that was because in the nights to come, the watch schedules overlapped, so there were usually two people awake at a given time. Perhaps it was because the Ayaka's crow familiar – which was now seen more often at night – was more intimidating than its appearance would suggest. Or perhaps it was because Matou Shinji used explosive _ofuda_ to mine the approaches to the campsite when they came to a halt, with the slips of power set to detonate if a substantial foreign prana signature passed by.

Whatever the case, the nights had been relatively peaceful, even if Matou Shinji remained vigilant. For he remembered what had happened when he'd fallen asleep, and just how close to death he'd come. With the lack of physical danger in his second year at Hogwarts, and how busy things had been, the boy had lapsed in this training to an extent – something he was remedying on this trip, where failing could very well mean his death.

Or worse, the death of others around him. Well, probably not Sajyou-san, as he thought she would likely survive most things they were likely to encounter, but Luna, who was here at his invitation, was much more vulnerable.

Especially if most _youkai_ were resistant to the spells learned in Charms or Defense against the Dark Arts, as the _onikuma_ had been.

Whatever Luna's other gifts might be, she didn't have the benefit of using nature interference abilities like he did, or (presumably) a large enough variety of spells to compensate. She'd only just finished her first year, after all.

True, she might be able to use _Avifors_ to transfigure a rock or something of the sort into a flock of birds to distract an attacker, but he didn't think that would to too much good if she couldn't hurt it. Something more advanced, like _Draconifors,_ which turned objects into miniature drakes, might be more useful, but he didn't know the spell – and even if he did, Transfiguration had never been his specialty in the first place.

Sokaris' fighting style, using potions to supplement her innate abilities, would have been useful, but brewing potions on a trip like this, without the benefit of familiar ingredients, was likely to be impractical at best.

And even if he'd been willing to teach her how to use _ofuda_ , the level of mastery required to begin working on elemental abilities wasn't something anyone could master in a matter of weeks. Even Harry hadn't reached that point yet, though to be fair, the other boy used it more as a supplement to the wand techniques of Hogwarts, while Shinji preferred his onmyoudou techniques.

Which only left one viable option: using her innate yang affinity to increase the potency of what spells she did know.

"Would that be possible?" he asked Ayaka while they were on watch together, after one of their more brutal training sessions. "Using yang for that purpose? I know it's usually associated with healing, but…"

"If her wand's core is yang-aligned, then yes, that would be effective," the other had responded as she looked out into the starry night. "Though it primarily enhances the physical component of a spell, not the spiritual and conceptual component."

"As opposed to yin, you mean."

"Correct."

"Hm, so when one heals with yang, what's the actual effect?" Shinji wondered aloud. "It seems that it is more about promoting growth and regeneration than reversing the injury."

Ayaka's answering expression was rather wan and drawn.

"It is not a curse of restoration, no," she answered after a moment. "At the most basic level, pure yang promotes growth and vitality, while yin can inhibit them – hence why the latter is well suited for sealing, binding, and the like."

"…so when _you_ heal, you use both."

"In a controlled fashion, yes," the Witch replied. "The combination is necessary to destroy things like necrotic tissue, bone fragments, or such. And even then, there are things traditional healing arts find quite problematic to treat, such as tumors."

"Huh." Shinji grunted in acknowledgement. He could see how something like cancer was something that couldn't be treated easily, given that tumors were usually the result of uncontrolled growth. This was new to him, as he'd never thought about the mechanics – or limitations – of magical healing in the past. "Speaking of yin…" He paused for a few moments to gather his thoughts. "…I presume you could use that to heal yourself by tapping the life force of others?"

…much like the Matou magecraft, whose focus on decay, binding, and absorption also meant they could sap the prana and vitality of other living things to heal themselves, among other things.

Ayaka glanced at the boy oddly, her expression blank and almost cold in the firelight.

"Yes."

But that was all she was prepared to say on the topic, as the mood grew heavy, and Shinji felt if he'd asked something taboo, or at least stumbled onto a sore point.

"I didn't mean I was going to use it," Shinji said quickly, his hands raised defensively. "I was just curious."

The bespectacled girl nodded slowly and looked away. It was almost a minute before she next spoke, and when she did, her voice was a harsh, distant whisper.

"So many are."

* * *

" _Defodio!"_

Shinji leaped out of the way as the ground about his feet collapsed into a shallow pit, as if an invisible hand had torn a gouge into the earth.

'… _that…was stronger than I'm used to.'_

' _Bind!'_ he commanded, as three of his paper talismans shot towards the form of his opponent – the girl named Luna Lovegood, only for her to incinerate them with a cry of " _Incendio!"_

Instead of Ayaka dueling against him – which ended with Shinji beaten time and time again, since she didn't seem to hold back, _ever_ – the fox's apprentice had arranged for the boy to duel against his companion, given that fighting against a superior combatant would help Luna learn the basics of using her yang alignment enhancing her spells more quickly – while fighting someone familiar would keep Shinji focused on what he'd decided to train in for the time being.

Binding, and other non-lethal techniques, the theory being that if he had an opponent at his mercy, then he could either finish them off with ease, or let them go, depending on what kind of threat they posed.

While there was a certain appeal in training up his earth elemental affinity so that he could effectively combat things that resisted his normal spells, elemental spells – especially the large scale ones – didn't really tend to leave much behind…and it was impractical to practice those against another living person for now.

Perhaps the _Book of Spells_ or the Room of Requirement would provide him with a better environment – and some kind of opponent – to test his mettle against.

For now, however, he wished to expand on his basic abilities, since binding, he felt, would probably be one of his most useful of his skills – if properly developed. He'd been able to bind squibs, ghosts and other practitioners of witchcraft easily enough with his general purpose binding _ofuda,_ but what of things like magi, _youkai_ , or Dark Creatures that might prove resistant to such?

Or even practitioners who saw his _ofuda_ coming and had developed countermeasures – as Luna was demonstrating now?

Harry had mentioned that was a problem during the final clash with Quirrell, and if Quirrell was truly Voldemort, then he had to assume that practitioner of the Dark Arts would be ready if he tried such a thing.

" _Flipendo!_ "

He dodged back from the lance of blue light, frowning as Luna's Knockback Jinx left a crater behind on the ground where it had hit, and wondering how badly that would have hurt if it had hit _him_.

' _...infusing a yang-aligned core with additional yang prana certainly makes even the basic spells more devastating.'_

Devastating enough to harm a youkai, he didn't know, but he'd err on the side of not getting hit anyway.

' _Flipendo Tria!'_

Silently, he cast a more advanced version of the Knockback Jinx, manifesting as a small whirlwind of said jinxes that raced for the girl, only for her to counter with an enhanced version of _Flipendo Duo,_ the two whirlwinds clashing and canceling each other in a cloud of dust.

…which was exactly what Matou Shinji wanted, as strips of paper flew from his sleeves, several targeting his opponent directly – with these predictably eliminated by a wave of fire, but most striking the ground around her in an array not unlike a pentagram.

" _Colloshoo!_ " the blonde called out, invoking the Stickfast Hex to hold Shinji's shoes to the ground, her wand rising for what would apparently be a finishing blow. " _Petrificus To—"_

…but Shinji spoke first.

" _Bind!_ " he intoned, raising his hand as a haze of shadows flared up from the ofuda scattered about his opponent's feet, disrupting Luna's spell in mid-cast. "User of Witchcraft, I bind you." The haze congealed into lines and whorls, like ropes that froze as they touched their target, the wand slipping out of her hand. "Daughter of Pandora and Xenophilius, I bind you." The blonde's eyes were open wide as magic danced about, only able to watch as Shinji visibly shook as he fought to control the power he'd loosed. "Luna Lovegood… _I bind you_."

And then it was complete, the ropes of power sinking into the target and leaving her motionless, binding Luna Lovegood not simply by intention and prana, but by knowledge of her nature, her lineage, her true name.

For these things were important in the workings of both the Eastern and Western Arts. To those with the training, a true name conferred the power to rob one of will – even of one's soul if one was advanced enough in one's practice, which he certainly was not. He imagined the practitioner he'd met long ago in that strange shop might be, however…which was fairly unnerving.

Even now, his body was trembling from the strain of shaping prana outside his body – even if it was his own; this level of binding, using arrays, and names, and other knowledge, was so much more potent than the other, but it was far more draining as well.

If he were fighting someone besides a practitioner of witchcraft, it would have been more of a struggle to enact it, as the first, weakest binding, might not have held, with an opponent slipping out of the array. If that were to happen, the other bindings would be ineffective.

Against other opponents, the binding array would need to be bigger, using even more prana and requiring even more in the way of control.

Even at this level, he was already breathing hard, as if he'd fought much longer – much harder – than he had, beads of sweat building on his forehead.

"Passable," Sajyou Ayaka judged. "You are still having issues with control, however."

"…yes," Shinji conceded, as he panted. "Simply binding someone, with that many layers of intent, is difficult."

"It would be all the more so against a _youkai_ ," the raven-haired magus noted bluntly. "Their innate resistance would have fought your binding, which is where the knowledge from the _Field Guide_ is useful. There may also be times you do not know an opponent's true name, making the task much more difficult, though one can use what one knows instead."

"Birthdate would work too, wouldn't it?" Shinji inquired, with Ayaka raising an eyebrow at the inquiry. "…I heard about that from a practitioner in the city."

"It would, though you are unlikely to have that bit of information, unless your opponent is quite famous or known to you in another way," the other answered. "Against most…"

"Yes, I see your point," Shinji noted. He'd have to do more research on Tom Marvolo Riddle, he thought. With a sigh, he first used _Finite_ to end the hold of the Stickfast Hex, then pointed his wand at Luna's helpless form. " _Release."_

There was an effect like the shattering of glass, as binds shattered, color and life coming back into the girl's form as she blinked and swayed unsteadily, almost toppling over, save that he caught her in his arms before she could.

"Hullo Matou Shinji," Luna murmured groggily. "You feel warm…"

Shinji felt the tips of his ears turning red, as he glanced over to see Ayaka hiding her mouth with her hand.

"Are you alright, Luna?" he asked quietly. That had been the first time he'd managed to use that spell, and he hoped she was none the worse for wear. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Mm, no," the blonde answered with a gentle smile. "I almost got you at the end."

"…you did, yes," Shinji responded with a sigh. Truth be told, that had been little too close. He really needed to stop underestimating the power of basic, spoken spells – especially when they had been enhanced by her affinity. "You learn quickly."

"Someone has to keep you on your toes," she murmured, shaking her head drowsily. "I'm a little tired. Take me to bed?"

It was an innocent enough query, since she really wasn't in a state to stand and had spent a good deal of prana enhancing her spells, but Shinji felt somewhat embarrassed all the same, as he scooped the girl up in his arms and carried her to the tent they shared, where he set her down on the bed and tucked her in.

"Thank you," Luna whispered. "You're kind, despite the darkness inside of you."

"Not nearly as kind as you think," Shinji answered, shaking his head. "I'm really…not a good person, Luna."

She didn't answer immediately as she lay there, her silver eyes studying his face intently.

"You asked if I was hurt," she said after a while. "Most people wouldn't bother. Not for simple Loony Lovegood. You invited me here. You let me learn. You listen." Her lips curved into a mysterious smile that belied her years. "You're kind."

Shinji swallowed, feeling a sudden impulse to protect her from harm. She'd done so much for him, even if when he'd met her a year ago, he'd only wanted the use of her cabin. Since then…well, it was hard to describe what it meant to have a friend who understood him, who didn't mind that he practiced what some called the Dark Arts, who had an open mind and was so insatiably curious about the world. Almost despite himself, he leaned down and kissed Luna on the forehead.

"Good night, Luna," he said quietly.

"Mm," was the only reply, as his fellow Ravenclaw fell silent and slipped into the sweet embrace of sleep.

With that, Shinji left the tent, where he came face to face with the stern, but expectant visage of Sajyou Ayaka.

"If you are quite done flirting, Matou, training continues," she intoned, raising a gloved hand, as her crow familiar perched upon it. "Your bindings require some work yet, so let us test how you do against a youkai."

The Witch smiled, her expression almost cruel as she ushered him back to the training area.

"My familiar Yatagarasu will be your opponent," she continued, with Shinji at least thankful that he knew the other's true—"And no, that is not his true name."

'… _damnit.'_

* * *

The journey ahead was long and arduous, often pushing Matou Shinji to his limits physically, mentally and magically, as they hiked, foraged foodstuffs, navigated difficult terrain, and trained. There were days when he didn't think he could manage another step, days when he was sure he would just collapse and sink into the dust of the underworld, days when he almost ended up adding a poisonous plant or mushroom into the cooking pot.

But he – despite being the least experienced in such journeys – endured, and eventually, they arrived at the Shiretoko Peninsula, the most remote region in all of Japan. As they entered the forested lands, Matou Shinji could feel a _shift_ in the world, as all the sounds from outside were gone, and the very atmosphere felt different.

The air was thick with prana, and at edge of his perception, he thought he could sense something old and mysterious – but it was never there when he looked. Sometime, he would see animals in the distance: brown bears, deer, even perhaps a fox, but he was never quite sure.

"Forests are like that," Luna commented. "But then, Eastern Hokkaido is much like northern Sweden."

And she had spent a considerable amount of time there, given her search for the Crumple-horned Snorkack.

As they advanced though, they encountered a thick bank of mist that seemed to impede them from going any further. For a time, they stumbled about, relying on a compass, but there was no sign that they were going in the right direction, not with the thick canopy of trees blotting out the sun.

Eventually, though, they ended up at a mist-free clearing, which contained a small shrine – and an altar with three small bowls set upon it.

"As you have come to this place to find a familiar, we should make an offering of some sort to the spirits here," Ayaka commented. She'd done this before, of course, when she came here the very first time in search of a spirit to partner with.

"What should I give?" Shinji asked.

"What would be a good offering?" Luna inquired.

"That is up to you," the raven-haired magus replied, not unkindly. "Each must provide his or her own offering, in accordance with what you desire."

She approached the shrine first, pouring out a quantity of sake into one of the bowls, before motioning for the others to approach.

Shinji didn't know what to offer, though he somehow didn't think something like a marshmallow square would do, and he wasn't going to part with one of his books, not when what he had on him were his _ofuda_ tome and the _Field Guide._

So he sighed, resorting to something not entirely unusual for magi. He placed his arm over one of the bowls, and taking a knife, opened one of his veins, with the thick fluid dripping down into the bowl, full of prana and life.

When he finished, he withdrew his arm, with Luna healing the cut with a touch, and pouring what looked like a cup of blood of her own into the third bowl.

"…how did you get that?" Shinji asked quietly. "You didn't cut yourself…"

"Girls don't have to cut themselves to bleed," Luna replied simply, with Ayaka nodding at this, and Shinji seeming a little puzzled.

"…I see. Your Master needs to explain a few things to you," the magus noted with a sigh. "Or perhaps my Master would. He would find much amusement in it; that much is certain."

She said no more though, as a path opened in the mist, and the party continued onwards. A few days more and they had reached their destination, the spring called Kamuiwakka, making camp along its shore.

"It is safe here, in the heart of _Shiretoko_ ," Ayaka commented as she sat on a mossy rock. "And now that you have come, both of you must purify yourselves by bathing in the waters of the spring."

"…at the same time?" Shinji asked, glancing over at Luna, who seemed to flush just a bit.

"Or individually. It matters not," came the diffident reply.

They discussed what to do, but ended up approaching the spring together, marveling at the mist that hung above it…and how the water itself almost glowed with power.

"…the water…" Shinji commented, as he felt every nerve in his body resonate with the world outside. "There's magic in this spring."

"Life," Luna chimed in. "Vitality."

"Um…would you like to go first?" Shinji asked after a minute. "Or…"

"It doesn't matter to me," Luna Lovegood answered, beginning to disrobe, her smooth, pale skin exposed as she stepped out of her garments without a care in the world.

Shinji averted his eyes, waiting until he heard the dim splash of her entering the water before he dared to look again.

"Its fine," she called out. "Join me."

And so he did, stripping off his garments, setting down his ofuda, his wand, and everything as he stepped into the white, almost glowing waters of the spring, inhaling sharply as he felt vitality surging through him, around him, over him.

 _Life energy._ A fountain of it that healed wounds, soothed aches, washing away more than just the grime of a long journey.

Suddenly, he could hear the water rippling, the sound falling to the ground in the distance, the sound of scurrying paws. The feel of the water around him poured into him, and the hardness of the stone about the spring felt almost painful.

Every sensation was heightened, as the waters washed him, cleansed him, carried away his frustrations and his disappointments.

He washed. She washed. They washed.

And then all faded into light.

* * *

How long had it been since he slept well? How long had it been since he was utterly at peace, and had not suffered nightmares? Matou Shinji didn't know, only knowing, when he stirred, that he felt better rested than he had in a long time.

He was dressed in a white yukata, with a sky blue _obi_ around his waist, with a similarly clad Luna sleeping near him with a white fox perched on her shoulder.

But they weren't laying on the bed in her tent, but on oddly warm stone – in a cave illuminated by firelight.

' _What…?'_

The boy sat up, and looked towards the source of the fire – only to see what looked like _himself_ there, tending a stew of kelp, tofu, and salmon.

"You are awake, Matou Shinji," the other spoke in a voice he found odd – like the doppelganger's had in the _Book of Spells._ But then, when one heard one's own voice from outside, it would tend to sound so, without the bones conducting as they did. "A curious human you are. But then I think the same of most. Come to the fire."

Despite the gentle tone, Shinji could feel that it wasn't a mere request, and since he had nothing with which to defend himself, he figured he might as well obey.

"What are you?" he asked, as he walked over and took a seat next to his doppelganger. "Oni, Kami, _Kitsune_ …?"

The other smiled at the question, but shook his head.

"No, none of those – the fourth after that."

Shinji blinked. Oni, Kami, _Kitsune_ was query from the _Tale of Genji,_ but what was the fourth…ah.

"…Kodama?"

One of the great tree spirits? Those who could manifest themselves in various forms, who had the power to bless lands, or curse them – and the humans in them, like _Kurozome_ had?

"Indeed," the spirit confirmed. "I am one of the old ones of _Shiretoko,_ and it is good that you know of our lore, even with the arts you and your companion practice. I must say, I have been quite curious about the two of you."

"Oh?" That was reason enough to give Shinji pause. He was not used to attracting the attention of powerful things, or beings. At least not by accident. "How so?"

"Most who come here are simply of the East," the other explained. "But you are one with strong ties to the West, much like your spirit-touched companion."

"…spirit-touched?"

"Well, you will find out in time." Shinji's doppelganger looked fondly over at the sleeping girl, and the fox on her shoulder. "Even now, one of my young friends seems to have chosen her as partner, but then, perhaps that was to be expected, given that this _kitsune_ is more yang than yin."

"And what about me?" Shinji inquired. He felt somewhat disappointed no familiar had appeared for him after his long journey, despite how far he had come.

The other only laughed.

"Well, trust a human not to recognize what is before him. I suppose most need something more direct, as even young Hijiri did."

Matou Shinji was somewhat discomfited by the sight of what looked like _him_ speaking badly himself – and commenting on the past of the Maiden of the Tree – which he wouldn't dare do.

"…Matsuo-san did?"

"Mm, yes, but that is a story for another time," the spirit answered, a mischievous smile on his face. "As I mentioned, you and your companion make me curious about the outside world, given how different you are from most who come here. You are touched by the spirit of _Mahoutokoro,_ yes, but you bear traces of magic from another land as well – and the blessing of that old trickster."

"…Kaiduka-san?"

"Is that what he calls himself now?" the other asked. "Well, I suppose it makes sense, as young Hijiri did always love the sound of the sea. In any case, I will give you a cutting of myself, as an aspect that you may take with you into the world, on the condition that you return in a decade's time. At that time, we may discuss something more permanent for you, young one."

"…a cutting," Shinji murmured. "Do you mean something like a bonsai tree?"

One of those small trees cultivated to remain small through confinement and pruning.

"Indeed. Hijiri will know what to do with it," the spirit replied. "That cutting will the symbol of our contract, and where it goes, there will be peace."

"This…aspect of yourself. What can it do?"

The other only chuckled.

"Ah, humans, so impatient. But then, I suppose your kind has a reason, as you live for so short a time," the boy who looked exactly like him spoke. "Like a fox, it will be able to change forms and shape, even taking on a human appearance. Its other abilities lie in the earth, in control of spaces – bounded fields, your kind would say, blessings – and curses."

Which complemented his abilities quite well, frankly. Even if it did mean he would need to carry a bonsai tree back to Hogwarts.

"Interesting…"

"The aspect has not the power of a _tengu_ or the versatility of a _kitsune_ , but it is formidable enough in its own right."

"…I am grateful," Shinji said, bowing low to the great spirit of the forest. "Could I have the aspect manifest on its own, separate from the tree?"

"Of course. And you may even choose the form it usually wears."

For a moment, Shinji considered asking for the aspect to default to the form of an _onikuma_ , as he imagined he'd get quite a bit of attention at Hogwarts that way – but then, he thought better of it. Subtlety was better in the end, and the element of surprise was often more useful.

"A black fox," he answered at last, as he thought it would make a nice set with Luna's white fox, given that he himself used yin, and she, yang.

"I cannot say that was unexpected," the other intoned, closing his eyes once. "So be it. For one decade you will have an aspect of mine as your familiar, with a true name of Tsukinoki. Do you have a preferred alias?"

Shinji just smiled, knowing another name for the tree of the moon.

"Zelkova."

With that, the spirit disappeared, and Shinji found himself – and Luna – back in _Mahoutokoro_ , on the floor of the shop called _Root of the Sky_ , with Luna – and her fox – beside him, their wands (both the cherry and hazel alike, in Shinji's case), _ofuda_ , and clothing arranged in two neat piles, and a bonsai tree – a Japanese Cedar – sitting on the counter, with a jet black fox with golden eyes sitting next to it.

The door to the back of the shop opened, with Matsuo Hijiri stepping through it and freezing as she noted the figures on the floor, and their odd clothing.

"…I should have known _he_ would do that again," she muttered, shaking her head. "Even for an ancient kodama, _Shiretoko'_ s spirit has a twisted sense of humor." Then she smiled, her expression smoothing out as she noticed that Shinji was awake. "Welcome back. Did you enjoy your trip?"

"I suppose," Shinji replied, glancing over to the bonsai tree, with several characters inscribed on the pot. "Is that…mine?"

"Apparently," the maiden answered. "And if you are curious as to where Sajyou-san is, she is remaining at _Shiretoko_ for a few days. Something about a well-deserved holiday from babysitting Kaiduka's latest project."

Shinji at least had the good grace to look sheepish.

"I'm…sorry," he offered.

Hijiri only chuckled.

"Sorry or not, things are how they are," she noted solemnly. "But I should move you back to your quarters at the school. There is some mail you must attend to, and your Master would like to know you have returned."

"…right."

Shinji only shook his head.

Verily, there was no rest for the wicked.


	8. The Fallen Lord

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 8.** _The Fallen Lord_

After a roundabout series of wanderings, interventions, and brutalities mixed together that some might naively call a grand adventure, Gilderoy Lockhart arrived at last in the land that once had been called the Kingdom of Illyria, but now was merely called Albania.

In the ancient myths, this land and its people had been founded by Illyrius, brother to Celtus and Galas (the progenitors of the Celts and Gauls, respectively), with similar traditions of magic. But even if things had grown from the same mold, the end result would be quite different, with each land developing spells and practices as needed, depending on what circumstances they faced.

And Eastern Europe, on the border of Asia Minor and the Middle East, had seen more than its share of turmoil and savagery, with conflicts magical and mundane too numerous to count. Clashes between Dark Wizards and heretic hunters, vampires fouler and deadlier than any in the rest of Europe – so-called apostles of Death whose might towered above most wizards alive today – and worse besides. Indeed, these lands were said to be the very origin of many of the dark creatures of legend: werewolves, dementors, and the like.

Which was why Lockhart had not been surprised that it was _here_ that Quirinus Quirrell had found whatever it was that had changed him.

That much was clear from the man's private notes, though even there, the late Defense Professor had not seen fit to commit to paper what exactly it was that he'd sought – and what he'd found. The man had been remarkably roundabout, really, only saying that his discovery would cement his legacy in Magical Britain forever, so none might laugh at him ever again.

Which meant that what he found could be anything at all.

Perhaps Quirrell had discovered the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, and used it to enhance his already formidable intellect? That was a possibility, but if so, why hadn't the man brought it back to Britain, where he would be hailed as a hero for discovering an artifact of the Founders?

Perhaps Gellert Grindelwald had not been killed by Dumbledore after all, and now sought an apprentice to teach his dark magic to. Given Dumbledore's twisted idea of mercy, the assassin wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't lived up to his title of Slayer of Grindelwald, but had imprisoned him – alone – in some obscure location, from where the man had escaped or some such.

Perhaps he had found something else, like one of the many others artifacts that had been lost in these lands. The cursed sword Tyrfing, perhaps, sometimes called Kladenets? The sword of Attila, maybe, said to have once been the sword of Mars, a symbol of rulership and dominion? Perhaps something else altogether?

Gilderoy Lockhart didn't – couldn't – know.

All he knew was that based on the Arithmantic calculations Quirrell had left behind, as well as the man's notes, whatever he sought was in the northern mountains of Albania.

In his line of work – well, both his lines of work, really – lack of information was one of the most dangerous things possible. And given that there was a very real possibility that Quirrell had found _someone,_ not _something,_ he'd been quite cautious, as Dark Wizards – especially old and powerful ones – or other long lived beings – perhaps one of the Apostles of Death – were quite paranoid about their surroundings, and quick to eliminate perceived threats with extreme prejudice.

Because of this lack of information, he had not traveled to Albania directly – and certainly not by Portkey. The man had taken a plane to Frankufurt, followed by a train to Trieste, on the very border of Italy and Slovenia, and from there had proceeded on foot across the Balkans with only minimal use of spells – no more than might be expected from a native wizard.

After all, concealing one's presence from a potential target was also part and parcel of his role, especially now that he was closing in on the area in the notes. For if _he_ were a paranoid Dark Wizard in hiding – or someone who had concealed an artifact, he would have made sure to cast any number of protective enchantments about it, or at least spells of detection.

Still, at least he didn't have to worry about the potentially lethal combination of high-level spells such as _Protego Maxima_ , _Fianto Duri,_ and _Repello Inimicum_. They were spells of last resort, deployed only in the event of the magical equivalent of siege warfare, given that using them both drew a great deal of attention and prevented any within the barrier from escaping.

He – like most others – preferred the safety of the shadows.

And so, concealed from sight by an invisibility cloak, the assassin searched for any signs of human presence nearby – any abandoned campsites, footprints, or other indications that someone had passed by here, with his search quickly enough rewarded.

'… _I smell blood. Blood and death.'_

Recent, too.

* * *

Sometime later, having climbed the mountain without the benefit of magic, an invisible Gilderoy Lockhart arrived at his destination. The man found himself standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, a precipice with a sheer drop behind him. It had not been easy to get here – only the training he had received and the inner focus he had managed to find over the years had let him ascend to this place.

' _This is it…'_

He knew it not by sight or sound, but by a spine-deep chill the signaled the presence of powerful enchantments – probably dark in nature. That and the fact that some of the rock around his feet seemed scratched and, as if by claws, and that there were no birds – or plants – or other life whatsoever here.

It was completely, utterly, silent.

' _Hmm…a concealed entrance, then. But how to gain entry?_ '

From his vantage point, he only saw the sheer face of the mountain before him, solid stone with no way in, and he rather doubted whoever it was who had made this place would have simply conjured up some sort of illusory barrier like the one at Platform 9¾ or Platform 7½.

Though he supposed anyone could be careless, especially if they believed themselves secure. Merlin knew he'd been careless enough in his reckless youth.

So he walked briskly at the rock face, believing that he could pass through it to whatever lay beyond – with his hand outstretched before him – and hitting only solid stone.

' _Well, that would have been too easy…'_

He stepped away from the stone, drawing his wand just in case his entry attempt had triggered an alarm or defense mechanism of some sort, but nothing of the sort happened. Were he younger and more naïve, the man would have assumed this meant that whatever was within was simply an artifact, but after seeing more than his share of death, he knew better.

There could be a password, he supposed, as that was a fairly standard defense, though if that was so, without knowing what it was, he would be stuck out here. It was unlikely to be something as convenient as Mellon, after all, since he had the impression that whoever it was didn't appreciate Muggle literature. And without some hint as to who had set the password, there was no way he'd be able to crack it – if it even as a password to begin with and not something else like a blood offering.

' _Well, no help for it, I suppose.'_

If there was someone inside, he supposed he'd have to see if he could get them to open a passage. And if there was no response…he could always go back to examining the wall more closely.

Thus, taking a few steps back, he drew his wand – the cherry with drake heartstring – and whispered

" _ **Defodio**_!"

The Gouging Spell had no effect, with the cliff face remaining unscratched, but then he hadn't expected it to open the way in the first place.

Lockhart settled in to wait, and was rewarded, when a few minutes later, part of the rock face slid aside, with a pale man with freckled skin and a mop of fair hair stepped out, his form crouched and only vaguely apparent through the distortion of a Shield Charm, as if he was expecting to be attacked.

"Who's there?" the man growled, his shifty eyes darting from side to side as he attempted to find any sign of whoever had cast that spell. "Show yourself!"

But there was no answer, for the assassin knew better than that.

Grimacing in distaste, the other dismissed his Shield Charm, revealing a face that Lockhart recognized as one of the Death Eaters that had tortured the Longbottoms into insanity.

' _Bartemius Crouch, Jr. But…he died in Azkaban.'_

Or so it had been reported, at least, though as one who thrived on lies, the History Professor knew better than to take such reports at their face value.

The man waved his wand again, eyes widening as Lockhart felt something swooping low over him – the telltale sign of _Homenum revelio –_ and the assassin _moved_.

Before the Death Eater could cast again, could sound an alarm, could shut the door or respond in any other way, a dirk had knocked his wand out of his hand, with a length of steel buried in his throat a moment later. The man gurgled, gasped for air, and seconds later, collapsed.

Lockhart grunted as he pulled his blade free and wiped it clean on his victim's tattered garbs, using a flick of his wrist allowing him to retract the weapon into the bracer he wore about his wrist.

He'd had no choice but to kill the other, though he found no joy in it. In a confrontation with a dangerous fugitive and who knew who or what else still lay ahead, he could take no chances. True, having to kill meant his cover was likely blown, but such had always been a possible outcome – and well, killing a dead man wasn't legally murder.

Quietly, he took the other's wand from where it had fallen, pocketing it as he proceeded through door into the darkness ahead, with the light of the full moon streaming in behind him.

* * *

' _No_ ,' Lockhart mused as he walked further into the gloom of the initial passage, letting his eyes adapt to the lack of light. _'It's not quite darkness. It's denser, fouler somehow.'_

He moved in utter silence, trusting not his eyes, but his instincts. This was not the first time he'd encountered the workings of Dark Wizards and their ilk, and this remote, secretive place had the hallmarks of most of them.

The presence of a Death Eater – one presumed long – as a door guard merely confirmed his suspicions, given that _that_ kind sought powerful masters.

' _There.'_

In the distance, Lockhart could make out a sickly green gleam, and had to suppress a shudder of revulsion. He didn't know what it was, but even from here, he could sense its foul intent and twisted power. Because of who he was, death in and of itself didn't bother him, just what humans – Muggles and Wizards alike – were capable of.

Still invisible – not that that meant much in utter darkness - he drew his wand and continued onward, until the narrow, dank tunnel widened into a grand chamber wider than the eye could see. In the center of the cave was the source of the glow: a bloody cauldron with a potion bubbling within.

" _ **I SEE YOU."**_

The voice rang out from all around him, like a thousand claws grinding against stone, the buzzing of a thousand swarming locusts about to descend on soon to be barren land.

From what must be other passages scattered about the cavern, snakes wrought of smoke, twisting and congealing into something that looked like a great face.

… _a wraith._

This…was bad. In his training and his many years as an assassin, Lockhart had learned how to do many difficult – almost impossible – things, pulled off quite a few assassinations of various fiends and such, but killing a wraith wasn't something he could do.

Yet.

" _ **REVEAL YOURSELF,"**_ the voice commanded, malice and authority made manifest.

'… _blood. Crouch was sacrificing people for their life energy.'_

Lockhart did as the voice bade, shrugging off his invisibility cloak. If the other could sense him through the concealment, then it was useless to stay hidden. _That_ would only make him more prone to being sloppy.

"Lord Voldemort, I presume," the assassin spoke quietly.

" _ **Indeed,"**_ the voice confirmed, harsh and sibilant like the hissing of snakes. _**"You killed my servant, wizard"**_

"You can't kill a dead man," Gilderoy Lockhart replied with a bravado he did not truly feel. "Still, I'm surprised. I didn't expect you to be the one Quirinus found two years ago."

"… **YOU** _ **. WHO ARE YOU?"**_

All at once, the face dissolved into a cloud of foul darkness that rushed at the blond, tendrils of smoke extending as if to burrow into his skull, but Lockhart didn't flinch, brandishing his wand…and pointing it at his temple, with a strong blue glow gathering around its tip.

" _Stop right there_ ," Gilderoy barked out. "Come any further and you will never know."

The living shadows stopped in mid-surge, with the face re-emerging.

" _ **You would deny Lord Voldemort?"**_ the voice hissed quietly, the ground trembling under Lockhart's feet as the incorporeal form of the Dark Lord seethed.

"I would. Probe my mind and it will be gone. Attempt to possess me, and I will _Obliviate_ both of us."

Because if the wraith possessed him, it would have a host, and thus his magic could affect it. He would not betray those who had made him who he was – not even now.

" _ **You…do not lack courage,"**_ the other conceded after a moment. _**"Why have you sought me, friend of Quirinus Quirrell? Power? Knowledge? Skill? These I can teach you and more…**_ " The very air seemed to grow heavy and cold as the other continued. _**"But if you seek revenge, you have come in vain. You cannot kill an immortal."**_

Despite the severity of the situation, Lockhartjust raised an eyebrow. A disembodied wraith did not strike him as being 'immortal', really. Still, the other had a point: with the weapons he had now, he would be unable to kill the other.

"True, I cannot kill you," the assassin admitted, an empty smile on his lips. "As for what I want…how did you come to be here after you were bested by the Boy-Who-Lived?"

A hissing like a thousand angry snakes.

" _ **HE DID**_ **NOT** _ **DEFEAT ME. THE MEDDLING OLD MAN MUST HAVE PLACED A CURSE ON THE BOY!"**_

"Oh? And who was this meddling old man?" Lockhart inquired mildly. He had a feeling he knew, but…

" _ **THE LATE ALBUS DUMBLEDORE. HE RIPPED ME FROM MY BODY, LEAVING ME LESS THAN SPIRIT, LESS THAN THE MEANEST GHOST. THE BOY-WHO-LIVED THEY CALL POTTER. BUT THAT IS A MOCKERY OF ALL THAT IS RIGHT AND PROPER."**_

The voice laughed, a high, cold laugh like nails scraping against a chalkboard.

" _ **BUT DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD NOW. AND I…**_ **I LIVE** _ **."**_

"You do indeed," Lockhart reflected. "I assume you Quirinus agreed to serve you then. To help you…steal an item of great power from Hogwarts under Dumbledore's nose. One that would perhaps help you regain mortal form?"

" _ **HOW DO YOU KNOW OF THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE?!"**_

The assassin just smiled thinly.

"I didn't. You just told me," the wizard replied, though his smirk didn't last as the animated corpse of Bartemius Crouch Jr tackled him from behind, pulling him to the ground – and knocking the wand from his hand.

Too late, he realized that perhaps the dramatics of the wraith had served a purpose: covering the approach of the Inferius the Dark Lord had apparently created out of the Death Eater's body.

As undead creatures, Inferi could not be killed with a mere slash or stab. Their bodies had to be destroyed, and with no ability to feel pain, they could use as much of their strength as their master wished.

" _ **Fool. Did you really think you could defy the most powerful wizard of all time without consequence?"**_ the voice hissed in victory as tendrils of shadow shot forward once again to possess the adventurer and strip everything he knew from him.

' _I didn't want to have to use this…'_

" **Zabaniya!"** Lockhart cried out in the moment before the tendrils struck home, with the wraith seeming to freeze at the cry, along with Inferius under its control.

But that…was only to be expected from the Assassin's final technique.

The name of the Fallen Angel that governed the fires of Hell, it was also the name of the supreme ability he had honed over a decade – that which qualified him for the title of Old Man of the Mountain. Others before him had gained the power to transform a target's brain into gunpowder and detonate it, to summon a cursed arm of an evil spirit and use it to crush an opponent's heart, to turn one's body into a dispenser of airborne toxins, to cause the energy of life to consume an opponent from within.

His answer was different, as it was suitable for a man whose entire existence was a lie, whose only truth was highest tenet of the creed his sect held to.

 _Nothing is True_ **.**

Tapping into his nature, his Zabaniya allowed him to utterly fool the mind of whoever he targeted, showing them a lie so convincing that they would believe it to be real, severing their bonds to reality as long as he maintained it.

No matter how strong an enemy was, no matter how they sought to defend against it, they could not stop it – for it was a truth he had sacrificed almost everything else to obtain, the very proof that he was an assassin.

Even now, the wraith of the most powerful Dark Wizard in recent history remained motionless, believing itself to have won, to be delving into the mind of Gilderoy Lockhart, when all it really saw was a cheap simulation, learning the name and truth of another Lockhart – the useless man he might have once become if not for his meeting with a mentor long ago.

Still, Lockhart knew he had not won, for this technique bled magical energy faster than any other spell he knew of – and there was nothing he could do to simply kill a wraith.

But maybe…maybe he could harm it.

Cursing under his breath as he fought to keep up the illusion, to feed the enemy more and more misinformation, he snatched up his Cherry and Dragon Heartstring wand. There was one spell that might work, but he'd never used it before, and he had no great hope of controlling it. If he wanted to escape, he'd have sacrifice the wand that had served him so well.

Lockhart hesitated, but only for a moment before intoning one simple word: " _ **Fiendfyre."**_

And in response fire spilled from his wand with a roaring, billowing noise, sweeping over the cavern. The job done, the assassin tossed his wand into the flames, turned, and ran as fast as his feet would carry him.

" _ **AUGHHHHHHHHHHH!"**_

A terrible scream issued from behind him, but Gilderoy Lockhart didn't look back. Dared not look back as his feet pounded the ground, his hooded black cloak billowing behind him.

The wraith was not going unscathed, as it the flames swirled around it, a mass of swirling confused shadows. One moment he had triumphed, claiming the body of the skilled adventurer who had found his hidden refuge. The next, he was beset by the fires of hell themselves, flames that sought to destroy, flames lapping at magic as well as flesh and stone.

Flames that sought to consume all in its wake.

"… _ **who are you, GILDEROY LOCKHART?!"**_

But Lockhart didn't answer, couldn't spare the breath to answer as he let his illusion collapse.

Everything he had, he placed into running for his life, running from living flames that sought to destroy _him,_ as Fiendfyre did not distinguish friend from foe. The sea of flames turned the cavern into a raging inferno, destroying the cauldron, the Inferius – and the other Inferi that had not been activated in the other tunnels, and melting the very stone.

For the fire was mutating now, shifting into flaming serpents, chimaeras, and dragons that rose and fell and rose again, their fanged mouths hungry for _life_ , hungry for fuel, hungering to _consume._

Like the fallen angel, he'd thrust his enemy into hell – and now he could only seek to escape it himself.

Already he'd tried to apparate away, but unsurprisingly, it had failed. There was an Anti-Disapparition jinx in place, it seemed, as was typical for these places, and he could only assume there was an anti-Portkey jinx in place as well.

' _Nothing for it then…I'll have to run…'_

Even now, the creatures of flame were gaining on him, their growls and screeches and roars coming closer, closer, ever closer. And in the end, he was only mortal.

He'd found the answers he sought: Voldemort still lived, even if in some reduced form, and the corruption in the Ministry was worse than even he had thought, if one thought dead was alive. He done what harm he could - the Fiendfyre would eat away at the wraith until there was no more magic left to take, weakening it, at the very least.

The very ground shook beneath his feet as the wraith roared in rage – as well it might, as this was the enemy's very stronghold. For an idle moment he contemplated drawing the wand of Bartemius Crouch Jr and using it to secure his footing, but thought better of it.

It was a wand that he had just won. He couldn't afford the time to master it or learn its foibles, not when the fires he unleashed still burned bright, searching for some source of magic, of fuel to feed on.

And they were gaining – as was the wraith, which now was shrieking out towards him, bent on claiming him – or at least seeing him die.

But ahead lay the exit, the silver glow of the watery moon evident through the still open door.

With his heart pounding in his chest from the exertion and the sound of melting stone mingling with a roar of anger, he poured every last bit of energy into his legs, desperate for just a little more speed, a little more distance.

He burst into the open, but he didn't stop, because his enemies would not.

Out the exit, over the outcrop, to the edge of the precipice he ran, and as shadow and flame lunged forward to claim him, he slipped from their grasp and plunged into the darkness, in a grand leap of faith.

The wraith though, followed him, its tendrils of smoke and shadow following him into the abyss, but the assassin only smiled, for _he was out of the fortress._

" _La shay' haqiqi, koulo shay' moumkin,"_ he whispered, and as if snatched up by a hook behind his navel, Gilderoy Lockhart vanished just before Voldemort could take him, disappearing beyond the Dark Lord's reach.


	9. Tunnel Vision

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 9.** _Tunnel Vision_

While his daughter had been off in the wilds of Japan obtaining a familiar for herself, Xenophilius "Xeno" Lovegood had stayed at the school in _Mahoutokoro,_ where he'd been invited to teach a special class on the creatures of Magical Europe, with a pleasant young man named Tomas assigned as his liaison and translator for the duration.

Truth be told, he'd greatly enjoyed his time at the school. The students were quite respectful and curious as to what he had to say about Nargles, Wrackspurts, Heliopaths and more, without the kneejerk skepticism most displayed in Magical Britain when someone showed them something they weren't aware of.

Nargles clearly existed in one form or another, as even the _Daily Prophet_ occasionally wrote of the mischievous fey infesting things like wigs. Heliopaths were noted in myth as the horses which drew the chariot of the sun – a fire elemental equivalent to the three-legged crows the Japanese called Yatagarasu and the Chinese Sanzuwu. And as for wrackspurts, well _something_ had to explain why people suddenly lost their train of thought sometimes, and a creature which caused distraction and was drawn to doubt, insecurity, and other negative thoughts wasn't really that outlandish.

When others accepted the existence of invisible horses which could only be seen after one had seen death, giant, sentient spiders which somehow did not collapse under their own weight, snakes that could kill with a glance, or giant cats whose very breath brought disease and could not be stunned by less than a hundred wizards working together, such selective and arbitrary skepticism was odd.

And when even things like Yetis or the Loch Ness Monster _existed_ (with the latter being a giant Kelpie who enjoyed the form of a Sea Serpent), how could one deny the possibility that other such beings might exist? For the most part Xenophilius found others in Britain to be a close-minded, provincial sort, much like the hobbits so prominently featured in the books his daughter so enjoyed, only worse, for they were even unaware of their histories and all that had come before.

Why, many did not even acknowledge the existence of the Deathly Hallows, even though Grindelwald himself had openly used their sign and the famed Albus Dumbledore was known to replace the "A" in his signature with the symbol.

The Wand, the Stone, the Cloak.

He himself wore the symbol of the Hallows openly to reveal himself to others who believed in their existence and power as something beyond fairy tales, as he sought them out of curiosity. Not out of any desire for power – though part of him did wonder, if he brought them all together, if he would be able to bring Pandora back – but out of a relentless desire to know.

Twas the same desire that drove him to try and replicate the properties of the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, though to date, his experiments had been a dismal failure. This surprised most of his neighbors, who revered the Founders, believing that no modern wizard could come close to matching their feats and that he was mad for even trying.

At least his guide Tomas, a self-described descendent of the Peverells, had been more open-minded, identifying the sign of the Hallows at a glance and inquiring what he knew about them. It had been a delight to meet a fellow Quester in a strange land, one who knew of the fabled properties of the Hallows and did not instantly associate them with Grindelwald, though to be fair, the other mentioned he'd never set foot in Britain, having spent his entire existence in Japan, steeped in the magic and traditions of these Eastern Lands.

The youth even discussed the Diadem of Ravenclaw with him, showing an unusual depth of interest – and knowledge – concerning the artifacts of the Founders, but Xenophilius supposed that perhaps Tomas was simply curious about other legends of Magical Britain, as his blood was from there, but he had never been himself.

The prospective properties, possible enchantments that Rowena Ravenclaw had used, whether the enhancement of wisdom was a permanent boost gained from putting on the Diadem for the first time, or if one had to be actively wearing it to obtain the benefit. All these and more he'd discussed with his guide, finding the other to be a charismatic and knowledgeable wizard.

Tomas had even gone so far as to quote from a rather popular text concerning Xenophilius' situation: "What is it they say, 'A prophet is honored everywhere except in his own hometown and among his relatives and his own family?'"

The elder Lovegood had smiled ruefully at that.

"That they do indeed," Xenophilius had responded. "Still, Britain is my home, and the only home my daughter Luna has known, even with our trips into the wilds." He'd paused then, as if considering what to say next. "If I can be frank, I'm glad she made a good friend. Since Pandora died, I've been used to people not understanding what I do or why. That's fine, they're free to dismiss me and my beliefs. But my daughter…" The man had turned away, looking off into the distance. "I worry. She's a bright girl, but sometimes children…"

"…children can be very cruel," Tomas had said, his face kind, almost…understanding. "Especially to people who are different from them."

Just as the children at the orphanage had been cruel to him once, so very cruel indeed. They'd mocked him, ridiculed him, hurt him, saying he should just go back to the circus where his mother was from, that was just a lonely freak. Was it really a surprise then, that when he'd discovered he was special, that he had _magic_ , he'd used it as tool to make them _stop_ , to scare them into submission? It was _them,_ the other children, who'd taught him that those with power made the rules. So really, he was perfectly justified in doing what he did, in letting them know that if they hurt him, he would hurt _them._ Only, of course, Albus Dumbledore hadn't understood that, telling him his actions were wrong and that law-breakers would be punished with severity, that _self-defense was wrong,_ even though, as Tomas later found out, Dumbledore himself had conspired with Grindelwald to overthrow Magical Europe, only to receive no punishment at all.

Instead, Britain had offered the man the position of Minister. Knowing this had only reinforced the truth Tom Riddle had already known: that there was no such thing as good or evil, no such thing as right or wrong, only power, and those too weak to seek it. Laws, restrictions, taboos – these were the tools of those with power to keep others weak. Which, he imagined, was a large part of why his main self had become a Dark Lord, to overthrow Magical Britain and cleanse the corruption in it, using the very tools the Ministry used to control the populace.

Fear and terror.

…but that was a long time ago.

"They are indeed," Xenophilus had said as the two walked into a curio shop. "And so I worry."

"Well, Matou Shinji is not a cruel boy," Tomas had answered, his red eyes seeming almost…amused. "On that account you should not worry."

"You know him well?" the older man had asked.

"I taught him Occlumency, and so I am well aware of his secrets and his thoughts," the youth had replied simply. "He is skilled for his age, and protective of what he cares about." And then he had smiled, a thin, razor-edged smile. "Really, he's much like me."

Which to Tomas, was the highest compliment he could give.

When Luna finally returned from her trip with Sajyou and the Matou boy, Xenophilius was rather pleased by what she had to say. The young girl talked of an adventure in the wilds, of shapeshifting creatures, of learning how to duel; of how amusing Matou's inability to cook had been, given how he seemed so competent with everything else; of how stern Sajyou had been, but how the other had obviously cared about their well-being.

Of nights by the campfire, of a magical spring, and of obtaining her familiar – which she'd named Pandora, after her late mother.

All this was fascinating, but more than anything in her account, Xenophilius Lovegood was struck by the way his daughter seemed to glow, by the way she smiled when talking of Matou's foibles, of quiet forests, and nights under the stars.

He'd found over the years that she was happier in lands outside of Britain – which was really one of the main reasons he went travelling so often, for her sake.

But this…this was the happiest he'd ever seen her, ever since the day her mother died.

* * *

In another part of _Mahoutokoro_ , of course, Shinji was going through a rather large stack of letters, all things that would have been manageable taken one at a time, but which, over a month, had piled up in to something rather obscene.

…not for the first time, he wondered how Professor Lockhart dealt with the mountains of fanmail he must get. Did the man have a form letter he just duplicated and sent off to his admirers? Did he have the Hogwarts house-elves fill them out for him? Did he offer one of the students a small stipend to help him, or force those in detention to do so?

One piece of mail, the usual list of required supplies and books for the coming year sent out by Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, was simple enough to deal with, as he needed to shop for his supplies later anyway.

The rest, however, was more troublesome.

One of the _least_ so was a personal letter from Professor Snape, with the Potions Master informing him that this year, in preparation for the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship, Potions and Herbology would be combined into a single class for those in their third year or above. This new class would involve little work in the dungeons or the greenhouses, but would take place in the Forbidden Forest and specially prepared fields surrounding it to better simulate the conditions of the Potions Competition.

In the missive, the Potions Master mentioned that he'd coddled his students long enough by giving them the safe environment of the dungeons, and that because of the way the classes had been traditionally separate, many had thought of Herbology as something only Hufflepuffs needed to be concerned with, when knowledge of Herbology _indispensable_ for any budding Potioneer.

Shinji was surprised by this, but all the more so by what else had been included in the letter: an invitation to join an elite Potions Boot Camp, an experience designed to train those who were _adequate_ potioneers into masters of the art, with only a select few being offered the privilege.

'… _I'm probably being invited because I knew Sokaris. And due to my having been raised in Japan, with its herblore and potions traditions.'_

Of course, his association with Hermione, who had possessed the _Book of Potions_ in the previous year, might be part of the reason for that as well, but that wasn't immediately on his mind as he debated whether joining the Camp would be worth it. On the one hand, it was exceedingly rare for Professor Snape to contact people like this, much less admit to their basic competence, and with the Eastern herblore he'd learned from Sajyou Ayaka (more out of necessity than anything else), he would probably have an edge in a global tournament.

On the other, this experience sounded like it would take up a good deal of time, and he'd seen the folly of agreeing to everything in the past year, when the Consul business ended up taking more time and effort than he'd imagined, given the death of Albus Dumbledore and the chaos that followed. Given the arts of binding and earth he'd been introduced to, not to mention the fact he now had a familiar, he needed to set aside time to practice his Craft and become acquainted with the kodama, and he wasn't sure he'd have enough if he joined this camp

' _Besides, I can teach someone else the herblore in exchange for help with something else…'_

Hermione, probably, given that she was passionate about learning the art of Potions, and well, he'd already taught Harry the basics of how to use _ofuda –_ a secret he hadn't revealed to anyone else at Hogwarts _,_ so he thought his friend would probably understand. It would be a nice thing to do, especially if Hermione had been invited to the Boot Camp – which he imagined she would be.

…which reminded him that he really needed to pick up gifts for her and Harry when he went shopping, since Hermione's birthday was coming up next month, and Harry's had passed while he was out on his adventure.

' _Speaking of which, I wonder what happened in the rest of the world while I was off in Hokkaido?'_

In Britain, rather, since he could catch up on Japanese current affairs easily, but news from the other magical nations was much harder to come by.

One other letter from Hogwarts was allegedly from the desk of Gilderoy Lockhart, though the handwriting looked somehow _off_ , seeming more like that of the journalist who'd interviewed the Stone Cutters than that of the History Professor. This one was briefer, notifying him that given his excellent performance as Consul last year, he was being appointed to the position once more, though he could choose to pass the position on to another, if he wished.

'… _no. Not again. One year was enough.'_

Whatever prestige he may have obtained from his tenure as Consul (such as being known as the second-year who'd outwitted Mad-Eye Moody), and whatever privileges were a part of that, such as unrestricted access to the Library, it took up far too much time, given that he had duties as the leader of the Ourea, and had neglected his responsibilities as a Stone Cutter last year.

With Robert Hillard set to graduate this year, plus his training and the fact that he had two electives on top of his other classes, Shinji thought it would be more prudent to decline. As for who might replace him, he imagined Hermione might make a good Consul, as she'd helped him out at the end of last year, and so knew what it took to rule well.

Well, hopefully. It wouldn't be _his_ problem, now would it?

He sorted through a good deal of other mail, responding to it as necessary, with a letter from Tohsaka Rin, informing him of her intent to take classes at the Clock Tower, and that in starting after the winter, she would be in London, proving to be of amusement.

' _Out from under the priest's foot, huh?'_

But the last letter in the pile stopped him cold.

More specifically, the name of the sender: **Matou Zouken.**

The contents seemed innocuous enough, with his _grandfather_ inquiring about his intentions towards the daughter of Tohsaka, given the other's unexpected plans to go to Britain, leaving Zouken as the acting Second Owner. Did Shinji intend to court her, perhaps? Frankly, the patriarch would be more than happy to arrange such a marriage, given the potential of the girl's Zenjou blood to maximize the potential of their partners – and because it would remove the Tohsaka properties and fortune from the control of the priest named Kotomine Kirei.

Zouken had also gone on to inquire what had happened with the son of Emiya, given that boy had left Fuyuki after the Magus Killer's death, and had cautioned his descendant not to involve himself in affairs beyond his understanding, as it would be unwise to attract undue attention from the Einzbern, a family far less merciful than the Matou patriarch could ever be, given their thousand year quest to reclaim their lost Magic.

…Shinji's blood ran cold as he considered the implications of this. By talking with Emiya Shirou and helping him discover his lost heritage, had that inadvertently made him a target of the Einzbern? He hoped not.

Beyond that, Matou Zouken had been curious about what had transpired over the past two years in Shinji's life – what he had learned, experienced, and such. Of special interest was how he had obtained the tome on the life of Makar Zolgen, with Shinji unsure of exactly what to tell him. He was bound by geas not to mention the conclusion of the Philosopher's Stone incident or the truth behind what had happened that year, at least where the Director of Atlas' interests were concerned, but what did he reveal?

That he had met the Director of Atlas? That he had a familiar now? That he was part of an organization whose true leader, the 'Old Man of the Mountain', might be associated with the Order of Assassins or the Illuminati? That he'd nearly been killed by a practitioner of witchcraft who styled himself a Dark Lord? That he was learning the arts of binding, decay, and more, much like a proper Matou might?

Caught between a desire for approval from the man – the monster – who had once dismissed him as worthless, and the possible disapproval of others whose ire might be much more immediately felt, Matou Shinji did not know what to do. But then, he didn't have to respond right away, he was sure, so he had time to think. His _grandfather_ was an old, old creature, and knew the meaning of patience.

Bracing himself for any further shocks, he was almost…disappointed when the letter contained none, save for a signed permission form allowing him to go to Hogsmeade, and an old tome written in what he assumed was Russian that was allegedly about the Templar Order.

He'd have to…

He frowned. Did he trust anyone to translate a book like that? Lockhart had kept his secrets, but…well, he supposed he had no choice, really. There were no convenient translation spells, after all, and he could always pass it off as a book he'd happened to find in a shop or some such, with him being curious because of the book's age.

For now though, he had shopping to do, books to obtain, and gifts to pick up, before he took a Portkey back to King's Cross station that evening.

* * *

So Matou Shinji hit the shopping district, with his black fox perched on his shoulder, making a note to avoid certain establishments where the price was far higher than mere coin (or prana) in his quest to pick up the supplies he needed. For certain, he made sure to restock the ingredients in his potions kit, as he thought he might need them in the course of the year, given the demands of the Potions/Herbology combined class. While he might be able to harvest raw ingredients from the various plants in the prepared field, he wanted to have a set of Western potions ingredients ready in case he needed something quicker.

Of the books, only _Numerology and Grammatica_ by L. Wakefield and M. Carneiro, and _Spellman's Syllabary_ were really of interest, given his study of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Interestingly enough, though his Master was more than happy to help him with the latter, she showed a great disdain for the former, commenting that it was something that was only really useful for destruction.

Now, this wasn't entirely true, but the Matou boy wasn't about to argue the matter, especially when his Master spoke in such a bitter tone about it, meaning that it probably had something to do with her sister, the Magician. He'd been on the receiving end of her killing intent once, and once was enough for a lifetime.

'… _she did mention that the notes of_ M. Valdamjong _would be more useful than any of the books I have on hand, but I don't know who that is.'_

And to be quite honest, part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Lost in his musings of what else to buy, it was perhaps not too surprising that he bumped headlong into someone with a muffled "oof!"

"Oh, hello Emiya," Shinji greeted as he noticed who he'd bumped into, but frowned a moment later as he remembered the conversation with the fox. "Or is it Fujou now?"

"Matou," the boy once called Emiya Shirou greeted in turn. "Either works, really. I'm still not used to being called Fujou Shiroe, to be quite honest. Not when the only name I remember is that of Emiya Shirou. Actually, I haven't decided what name I want to be called yet."

To be called Emiya would be denying his heritage. To be called Fujou would be denying the man who saved him.

"Heh," Shinji grunted in acknowledgement. Learning to respond to a different name was always a challenge, he imagined. "Speaking of the Fujous, what's it like having family?"

The Emiya boy's shoulders slumped at this.

"Not really that different, really," the redhead answered, shaking his head. "Either way, I'm still basically head of house now, since my adoptive father died, and my older sister…well, she's been in the hospital for a long time."

Shinji winced.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Emiya," he said, and he meant it. He'd spent long enough in the hospital to know that it wasn't a pleasant experience at all. But something struck him as odd, after his exposure to what magical healing was capable of. "Just asking, have you tried asking if Kaiduka could heal her?"

"It wouldn't do any good," the Fujou head of house explained, shaking his head.

"Why?"

"Cancer," Shirou explained, clenching his jaw – and his fists. "Very advanced. If it wasn't for my family's unnatural vitality…" '… _she would already be dead.'_ The boy took a breath to steady himself. "I find out that I have a family, a sister, but she's dying, and I can't save her."

Something which he felt incredibly guilty about, given that he had survived the fire where his parents had died, and so many others, that he had outlived his adoptive father, and now even his sister. It all made Emiya Shirou - Fujou Shiroe feel utterly helpless.

Shinji had seen something like this before, with his friend Harry blaming himself for the "death" of Sialim Sokaris.

"You want to be a hero that can save everyone, huh?" he said quietly, shaking his head.

"…it sounds stupid, doesn't it?" Emiya reflected, but sighed. "It doesn't feel right that I should be the only one surviving."

"It's your choice and your path, Emiya," Shinji replied, his eyes solemn. "I can't tell you what to choose, and frankly, I don't have the right to. Tell me this though, was she happy to see you?"

Shirou smiled for the first time that conversation.

"…yeah. She was happy her brother was alive, even if I couldn't remember who she was." But his smile soon faltered. "It's such a small bit of happiness though…"

"Sometimes, that small happiness is all we have."

"You could be right, Matou," Shirou responded. "At least I was able to save someone through my position."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Apparently I have cousins in a branch family. Twins who had been exiled because of a taboo their mother broke," the Fujou head of house related. "Tohno Makihisa, the head of the Tohno clan, took them in years ago because…" He paused, his face twisting into a grimace. "…because they were Synchronizers."

An uneasy silence followed that, with Shinji, who knew at least the basics behind prana transfer and amplification, growing more and more horrified as he processed the implications of this.

"When was this?" he could only ask.

"Around the time of the last Grail War – about six years ago. They were about 8 years old," Shirou said, his face barely able to conceal what he felt about that. "That demon, he…" Shirou could not continue, as he was visibly trembling. "Kohaku, she protected her sister. But…"

Shinji had nothing to say to this. What kind of monster would do such a thing to a young girl? Even if Tohno Makihisa was a demon hybrid and was trying to prevent himself from falling to Inversion Impulse, surely there had to be another way.

"They're free now," Shirou continued after a while. "Hisui lives in my old house in Fuyuki, along with a woman named Jinan Tokie, a nurse who now works at the general hospital there. Kohaku…she's in _Mahoutokoro_ , under Kaiduka's stewardship."

"…the kitsune sure likes to take in strays, huh?" Shinji joked, but his face quickly sobered. "And how is she here?"

"Lost, most of the time," the Fujou head of house noted. "As if she doesn't know if she's dreaming or awake, as if she's not sure what's real and what an illusion. She's happiest when she's growing plants, she's really good at making potions, and Kaiduka says she might make an excellent healer, but I don't know. Her smiles don't seem…"

"…real?"

"…yeah, like she's wearing a mask. Sometimes, when no one else is watching, the smile slips, and behind it is something like despair. I don't know what to do."

"Just be yourself, Emiya," Matou answered, almost grateful that there was something to distract him from his own thoughts, if not for what it was. "You wanted to save someone? Well, this is your chance. Be patient. Be kind. Be yourself. Just know that sometimes people have to suffer on their own before they will let you reach them."

"I hope you're right," Shirou murmured, shaking his head. Noting the fox at least, he let himself smile just a bit. "So you have a familiar now, Matou?"

"Yeah. After a long trip into Hokkaido."

"…a trip with your _shiroi koibito?"_ the Emiya boy asked slyly, with Shinji almost falling over in shock. "I saw the girl you traveled with and her fox. You make a good set."

"Emiya," Shinji growled, not in the mood for this.

"Yes?"

"Shut up before I show you exactly what I learned from Sajyou-san."

"…I don't think there's a need for that," Shirou backpedaled, remembering how brutal Sajyou-san could be in her training methods. He might not exactly mind pain, given that that was a side-effect of using one's circuits, but Sajyou-san's sessions took violence to a whole other level. He noted the various bundles Shinji was carrying – books and satchels and such. "Anyway, what are you doing here today? Getting supplies before your school term?"

"Yeah. And a few gifts for people back in Britain, since the term starts tomorrow." But Shinji cocked his head in confusion. "What about you? Don't you have everything you need already?"

"Well…" Shirou said, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Kaiduka-san asked me to pick up a bow, since he said I seem to have a talent for Archery."

"…tell you what, consider it a late birthday gift from me, and we won't speak of this _shiroi koibito_ thing anymore, ok?"

Shirou smiled slightly.

"I can live with that."

* * *

After that, Matou Shinji reported to the classroom of Aozaki Touko, as his Master had indicated she had something important to talk to him about.

…and she did, giving him _The Talk,_ with the rationale behind it being that she was concerned about his education in practical matters, since he was rapidly approaching puberty and would soon be away at a co-educational boarding school once more, with hormones running high.

"I should have done this before you left on your camping trip, but I did not judge the risk to be particularly high," the magus commented, her cold eyes glaring at him as she held her glasses in her hand. Not for the first time, Shinji reflected that his Master was like a completely different person when she had her glasses off.

She proceeded to use her puppets to give him a very graphic demonstration of what various things might look like, how safe various activities might be, and various ways to keep from getting into trouble, as it were. This was all the more so at the Clock Tower, given how many young apprentices often found it a convenient time to study "prana transfer rituals" in detail. When one was truly transferring prana, pregnancy was rarely an issue, given how the body was affected by such energy flows, but in other cases…it was astounding how many methods there were to prevent various unwanted outcomes, such as the use of certain herbs like silphium (known since ancient times to be an effective contraceptive and used so commonly it was held to have been harvested into extinction), as well as other runic protections and such.

"…that was…educational," Shinji allowed after the fact. Somewhat traumatic and in more detail than he'd wanted to know, but educational all the same.

"You're quite welcome," Aozaki Touko intoned with a hint of amusement in her voice. "In any case, Matou, I see you have a familiar now. A _kodama_ , yes?"

"Yes, Master."

"Was it worth the journey, I wonder?" she inquired.

"Learning about myself and what I needed to learn certainly was," Shinji answered quietly. "Better respecting my art and my limits, and learning how to push beyond those limits."

"Hm, well, it seems you may have had something useful come out of Kaiduka's little request," she noted coolly. "And since you did take the time to learn about the basics of runecraft, even if you cannot make rune barriers quite yet, I suppose I should give you some kind of reward."

She presented him with a pair of boots as black as night.

"Thank you, Aozaki-san," he said, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"They're like your gloves, able to affect spirits or to resist the effects of foreign thaumaturgy, so you won't be caught off guard by something like a Stickfast Hex," the magus explained. "There's also a rune engraved within the sole that will allow for extra speed if you channel prana into it."

"Ah. Thank you very much, Master. I assume you made these as well?"

"I did. Consider it part of a set," the other replied, with Shinji wondering just how many things would be in this possible set. "You've proven that you deserve them, as you continue to be of some interest."

Shinji bowed low, as he really did appreciate these gifts.

"You've attracted much attention, Matou, and you are making an effort to do more than simply destroy, which I appreciate," Aozaki Touko commented. "So I suppose I can extend your provisional apprenticeship by another year." She put her glasses back on, lips quirking into a smirk. "Give your regards to your Potions instructor for me."

"Oh?"

"There is an even chance I may bring _Mahoutokoro's_ champion to the enchanted isle where the World Competition takes place."

Which raised another question.

"…and what isle is that?"

"A place known as Thule or St. Brendan's Isle. An unmapped, moving isle."

Shinji blinked at the description of this, as it sounded much like the Sea of Estray, which in itself was a moving mountain range.

"That sounds…like a place of much mystery," Shinji remarked.

"It is. It is something of a place out of touch with Alaya, where many creatures and plants linger from an earlier time," the bespectacled magus noted, lighting up one of her cigarettes. "A fragment of a past age."

"…like Atlantis or Avalon?"

"No, not quite like those," Aozaki Touko noted. "But close."

* * *

After their meeting, his master had escorted him to one of the departure platforms, where his baggage waited. There, he, along with Luna Lovegood and her father, had travelled by Portkey back to King's Cross station. The sensation – like that of a hook catching him about the middle and yanking him irresistibly forward through a howl of wind and sound and swirling color – was as unpleasant as he'd expected, making him feel as if he was going to be pulled in two.

Before he could lose his grip though, his feet slammed into the ground, the world slowly becoming solid once again as he unsteadily blinked away the spots in his vision.

That…had been a trip.

"It feels odd to be back in Britain," Xenophilius Lovegood commented. Stranger still of course, was the fact that here in London, it was morning, when it had been evening in _Mahoutokoro._ "And to have the day start again."

"Like going through time, only less risky," Luna quipped, the white fox on her shoulder looking about curiously.

"I suppose," Shinji allowed. He nodded to Luna's father. "I hope you enjoyed your time in _Mahoutokoro,_ Mister Lovegood?"

"I did, thank you," the older man replied. He tilted his head for a second, as remembering something. "Ah yes, my guide, a man named Tomas, said to say hello to you, and offered his condolences on the death of your Headmaster."

Shinji blinked.

' _Tomas? …as in the puppet made from the diadem?'_

"Ah, you met him, I see," Shinji said, not knowing exactly what the other had said about him.

"Yes, he was most curious about the things that had happened in Britain in the last year or so, but then I don't imagine he gets much news about that in Japan," Xenophilius replied. "You learned Occlumency from him, yes?"

"And some tricks with dueling," Shinji added, wondering what the puppet was up to. "And I would imagine there is little news of Britain over there."

"Each country keeps mostly to itself, after all," the editor of the _Quibbler_ noted, shaking his head, before his expression turned serious. "Thank you for looking after my daughter, Mister Matou."

"Really, I think she was the one who looked after me," Shinji replied with a bow, with the older man smiling a bit despite himself.

"She does seem to look after everyone, except herself," Mister Lovegood noted, his voice heavy with a touch of sadness. "Much like her mother, really. Takes care of me too much." Xenophilius shook his head. "Secret conspiracies, Dark Lords, unnatural deaths – it's a dangerous time, boy."

"I'll keep her safe," Shinji promised, meeting the older man's eyes.

The other grunted.

"See that you do," the man answered, nodding to the boy. Then he turned to his daughter. "See that your young man doesn't get into too much trouble, would you?"

"Oh, I don't think there's much hope of that," Luna quipped, with Shinji smiling ruefully despite himself. "Besides, we're just friends, Dad."

Xenophilius chuckled.

"If you say so, Luna," the man remarked. "Have a good year at Hogwarts. And the same to you, Mister Matou."

"Call me Shinji."

"Heh, Shinji, then."

With that, Xenophilius disapparated away, leaving 'Platform Nine and Three-Quarters' with a crack as the Weasleys poured in.

Unsurprisingly, it was the twins who saw him first.

"Ah…it's wee Matou…"

"…and little Lovegood!"

"Just come back…"

"…from Japan?" the twins chorused as they walked up to the two.

"Yes. Dad was invited to talk to the school about Magical Creatures in Britain," Luna replied, with the Twins' eyes widening. "He said they greatly enjoyed his presentation of the Crumple Horned Snockack."

"My apprenticeship requires that I return to _Mahoutokoro_ during the summers," Shinji noted. "Don't worry though, I brought you all presents."

"How…"

"…thoughtful, and how…"

"…interesting," they chorused together, noting the black fox on Shinji's shoulder and the white fox on Luna's. "And we see…"

"…you have matching pets."

"Got yourselves familiars, did we?" George asked, looking at the two animals curiously. "Kitsune, from what you mentioned two years ago?"

"Yes," Shinji answered. "It's quite a story, really."

"Well, we love stories, don't we, Fred?"

"Indeed, George, oh brother of mine!"

"I'll be glad to talk about it on the train," Shinji broke in, hoping to avoid too much questioning in public. "What happened in Britain while I was gone?"

"Oooh. Juicy news, that."

"Sirius Black was acquitted."

"And wee Potty condemned Peter Pettigrew…"

"…who was still alive, and had hidden out as the Weasley family rat—"

"—to the Dementor's Kiss."

"Fate worse than death that."

"But then, the rat did betray his parents."

Luna looked a bit troubled by this.

"Betrayal or not, the Dementor's Kiss is..." She trailed off, shivering, with Shinji putting a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment, and the twins looking at each other thoughtfully.

"Ah, sorry."

"Tactless of us."

"Did you hear, though…?"

"…Hillard became Head Boy…"

"…too bad for good old Perce, eh?" the twins chorused, as the Prefect in question – Percy Weasley, walked up.

"Greetings, Mister Matou," the seventh year said rather stiffly. "I do hope my brothers aren't giving you too much trouble."

"Not at all, Prefect," Shinji replied. "Just some talk between old friends and Stone Cutters. I hope you are well?"

"Well enough," Percy answered. "I do hope the Head Boy doesn't cause a scandal this year though. Youngest person to cast a Patronus or not, the rumors about him snogging the Assistant Defense instructor…" The prefect shook his head. "It's not…proper."

' _Snogging…ah.'_

"If you mean the scenario where Prefect Hillard cast the Patronus, he did not actually snog the Assistant Defense instructor," Shinji replied, already feeling the burden of leadership.

"…he didn't?"

"No more than killing someone during Quirrell's Christmas Challenge was actually murder," Shinji commented, with Percy's brows knitting together as he parsed the sentence.

"What do…oh, I see," the Prefect noted. "So _that's_ how it was. _I_ do apologize. It's just that Penny seemed so very upset about it this summer, going 'Robert' this and 'Robert' that. But then she heard it second hand from the Ravenclaw Seeker, I suppose."

"Heh, chivalrous Perce…"

"…standing up for his lovely Penny…"

"…a regular Knight in Shining Armor."

"You two don't have to be prats just because you don't have girlfriends," Percy snapped, looking between the twins. "Not that you should get them _this_ year. It _is_ O.W.L. year, you know, so study is important. Especially with Dad being a new teacher this year."

"Didn't stop you—"

"—now did it, Perce?"

"Be that as it may…" Percy blustered, his cheeks flushing a violent red. He trailed off, shaking his head. "Well, do as you will then." He seemed to see someone in the distance, with Shinji noticing a familiar blonde, and walked off.

"Hullo Luna, Matou," another voice greeted quietly. This was the slight form of Ginny Weasley, the sprightly second year who was Seeker for the Gryffindors. "Sorry about Percy. It hasn't been the best summer for him having to work under Lucius Malfoy. Especially since the Chief Warlock doesn't like Dad very much. Not becoming Head Boy didn't help either."

Shinji winced at that.

"I see," he murmured. And he could see how having to work for a boss that hated one's family could be rather bothersome. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Not your fault Headmaster Dumbledore and Barty Crouch died," Ginny said, smiling faintly at the boy. "How are you, Luna?"

"Quite well. _Mahoutokoro_ was quite a fascinating place, with odd magic, creatures, and people," the Lovegood girl answered with a small smile.

"And you even got a familiar. I want to get one, especially since we can afford one now, but I keep worrying that whatever I get is going to be a dark wizard in disguise. Like Pettigrew," Ginny remarked, crinkling her nose in distaste.

"Now, Gin-gin, don't worry…"

"…we wouldn't let a Dark Wizard hurt you," the Twins chimed in.

"And neither would wee Matou here."

"He's a chivalrous lad."

"And is always helping damsels in distress."

"Like Granger."

"Or Lovegood."

"Or…well, Sokaris was never in distress, but…"

Shinji shot the Twins a look of ' _please stop helping me_ ' _,_ but the effect was lost.

" _Would_ you protect me?" Ginny asked quietly, a hint of red on her cheeks. "I'm hardly as smart as Granger, or as talented as Sokaris, who I've heard so many stories about. I don't even travel, unlike Luna. And you seem to prefer helping Ravenclaws, after all."

"Like Harry, I'll protect those who ask me to," Shinji said with a smile. He wasn't about to go and espouse the philosophy of saving _everyone_ , but he conceded that both Emiya and Potter had something of a point that it hurt to fail. "Besides, no one deserves to be hurt by a practitioner of the Dark Arts." He paused, as if considering the sentence for the moment. "Even your brother Ron, I suppose."

The boy in question saw the gathering, but kept his distance.

"That's nice of you to say," Ginny murmured. "You're a lot nicer than some of the Gryffindors say."

"And what do they say?" Shinji asked, curiously.

"That you are a snake who can't be trusted, that your gifts in magic and your ruthlessness remind them of the stories about You-Know-Who," Ginny related, with Shinji chuckling nervously at that. Tomas, after all, _had_ mentioned that Matou reminded him of his younger self. "They think you're going to corrupt the Boy-Who-Lived and lead him into the darkness." But the fiery girl shook her head. "But that's ridiculous. My brothers wouldn't be your friend if that were really the case, right?"

"Matou isn't a Dark Wizard," Luna spoke up. "He's very kind, even when he doesn't have to be."

"…I suppose you'd know, Luna," Ginny conceded. "You do seem to spend more time with him than almost everyone else."

"No one else bothers to understand, or accepts that not everything is as it seems."

"Well. I suppose that's true," Ginny allowed, her voice trailing off. "I'm off to join some of the other second years. Want to join me, Luna?"

"No, I think I'll stay with Matou. Thank you though," Luna replied.

"Suit yourself. Don't let my brothers be too much of a pain."

And with that, Ginny Weasley was gone.

"Shall we find a cabin?" Shinji inquired, not really wanting to deal with more questioning as he levitated his trunk and lifted his bonsai tree.

"Well, why not."

"Let's go find Potty."

"It's been a while since the Stone Cutters all convened."

"And you have snacks, yes?"

Shinji sighed.

"…of course."


	10. The Wheels Go Round

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 10.** The Wheels Go Round

As he boarded the Hogwarts Express in the company of Luna and the Weasley Twins, Matou Shinji reflected on how things had changed since that first day in Britain log ago, when he'd known no one. The first time he'd come to King's Cross station he'd decided to sit with the Boy-Who-Lived not out of any cunning plan, but because of curiosity and the hope that by impressing and befriending a hero like Potter, he'd win instant acclaim. Only it hadn't turned out that way, as Harry Potter, the boy most of the people in Magical Britain had called savior, hadn't known the first thing about thaumaturgy, and had felt like a fraud from the weight of expectation.

And of course, the students at Hogwarts had been less than thrilled with the Boy-Who-Lived being sorted into Slytherin, much less Shinji's decision to applaud when the hall was silent, which had earned him quite a bit of questioning, as "everyone knew" Slytherin was a den of Dark Wizards-in-training, just as Gryffindor was a place for budding young heroes.

' _Right, because people's destinies are set at the age of 11, and traits like cunning or ambition are naturally evil, with people with these traits being put into the House of Snakes so as to separate them from any right-thinking practitioner of witchcraft.'_

The idea that a quarter of Magical Britain's population was destined to become villains because they had ambition was utterly preposterous. It was as if the message was that everyone had a proper place, and trying to go beyond that, to better one's position in life was somehow a supreme act of selfishness. As if it was only Dark Lords in the making who tried, and good upstanding citizens toed the party line – except for those who society considered heroes, who were granted an Order of Merlin and to whom the usual expectations did not apply.

He highly doubted that Albus Dumbledore would have been allowed so much autonomy in life without his unofficial status as "Champion of the Light" due to his defeat of Grindelwald, after all. Or that Gilderoy Lockhart would have been allowed to teach the somewhat subversive curriculum he had if he did not already possess an Order of Merlin and a reputation as Britain's greatest adventurer besides.

The same autonomy and respect people automatically gave _him,_ now that he had an Order of Merlin.

In his second year, he'd seen the power of a simple medal when he and Harry had returned from _Mahoutokoro_ , they'd run smack into the security surrounding the Sirius Black crisis, with Aurors bustling about Platform 9¾ and herding everyone on board the train. The Auror who had noticed them "dallying" had more or less ordered them on board - until he'd noticed who they were, upon which the tone turned respectful, with the man taking the time to answer their questions and stating his request more tactfully.

And his reputation had done some good on the train as well, he imagined, as he glanced over at Luna, the girl whose oddity and open-mindedness were so refreshing after dealing with her peers. If he hadn't chosen her to join him in the Slytherin cabin that fateful day, with others associating the two of them in their minds, what would have become of her?

A girl who made odd claims, who did not simply repeat what was told to her in the textbooks, who spoke of strange creatures like Nargles, Wrackspurts, and such – without the benefit of being an exotic foreigner – no doubt she would have been dismissed as a loon. Bullied, certainly, and passed over for opportunities like Consul or other such.

Without their chance meeting on the train, he doubted he would have noticed her, something he didn't really care to think about, given how bound up she'd been in his triumphs last year – like discovering the Room of Requirement, or gaining the respect and admiration of the ghosts of Hogwarts.

"You have wrackspurts dancing around your head today, Shinji," Luna said softly, her silver eyes peering at him curiously. "Something on your mind?"

"Just thinking about the past."

"I do that sometimes, but you can't really change it, the good things or the bad," she replied in a sing-song murmur. "It's just something that is."

"…you have a point," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "The future becomes the present, the present becomes the past."

"And you wonder about the paths not taken," Luna filled in, completing the thought, as her fingers reached out and squeezed his free hand gently. It was fortunate that the Weasley Twins were walking in front of them, or else the Matou boy might have been the subject of some teasing.

Well, more than usual.

"Yes."

He didn't think he'd been _that_ obvious about it, but then, Luna had always been more perceptive than most.

"I rather like this Shinji," Luna murmured gently, with Matou Shinji wondering if that had been a statement of fondness, a confession, or something else entirely. There were times when he still found the casual use of the word 'like' quite troubling.

"I'll probably change, you know."

"Oh, I do," the blonde girl answered with a gentle smile. "But then, we all do."

But there was more time for talk, as the Weasley Twins had found the compartment where Harry Potter was sitting, with Daphne Greengrass and her friend Tracey Davis sitting on either side of him, and Pansy Parkinson across from the trio.

"Oh great and evil Heir of Slytherin—"

"—By which George means the Boy-Who-Lived, illustrious leader—"

"—of the cutters of Stone—"

"—And lovely ladies of the house of snakes, of course—"

"—might we—"

"—join you?" the Twins chorused, finishing with a flamboyant bow, with Shinji fighting the urge to cradle his forehead in his hands, though it's not as if he could really do so, since they were already occupied.

"Ah, Fred, George," Harry said, not having expected to see them here.

"And we've brought wee Matou—"

"—and Lovegood too!"

At this cue, Shinji walked into view, nodding to the Boy-Who-Lived, with a somewhat resigned expression on his face. The Twins were the Twins, after all, except in life or death situations, and he was glad this wasn't one of _those._

"…are they always like this?" Tracey Davis asked, raising an eyebrow as she noticed Shinji – and his companion.

"No, they're usually worse," Shinji quipped. "Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

"Only most of the time," Harry chimed in, with the twins folding over exaggeratedly as if they'd been mortally wounded.

"Oh, that hurts, Harry, that hurts!"

"I resemble that remark—"

"—I do too, brother of mine!"

Despite themselves, the Slytherins in the cabin found themselves smiling at the Twins' antics, with Pansy even chuckling a little bit.

"Well, you'd better come in, then." Daphne spoke for the group, a small smile on her face as she regarded the bunch. "It wouldn't do for two of the mighty Stone Cutters to collapse in the corridor from something as gauche as overacting."

"Indeed. What would the public think?" Tracey Davis chimed in.

Fred and George blinked at this exchange, looking at each other and laughing.

"Well, they've got us there."

"Such sharp tongues for such lovely ladies."

"Our Harrikins is a brave lad—"

"—braving all that for a pretty face."

"You did call us snakes after all," Pansy replied with a wry expression. "So you should know we do bite. Sometimes."

"Come in, there's plenty of room," Harry added, as his eyes took in the others – and the matching foxes on Luna and Shinji's shoulder. "I'm sure we all have a bit of catching up to do."

"Naturally."

* * *

They filed in the cabin, stowing away their luggage, with Pansy moving over to sit next to Tracey so the newcomers could all sit together, and Shinji using ofuda of sealing and warding on the door, as he didn't want to be disturbed.

...something the others noted with interest.

True to his promise, Shinji had brought a good deal of Pocky to share, as well as an assortment of other snacks, like chocolates and mochi ice cream, which made him instantly a hit with the group. Truly, sugar was a wonderful thing, especially where teenagers were concerned.

"So what brings the Stone Cutters to our cabin?" Daphne inquired, her eyes glancing over each of the four. "Curious what secrets we know?"

"Just wanted to check in on Harrikins."

"Especially after his summer dealing with the Ministry—"

"—and Black—"

"—and Snape!" the twins chorused.

"You two – and Black – watched Pettigrew get the Dementor's Kiss," George said quietly. "What was that like?"

"Odd," Harry answered, frowning as he recalled the day in question. "It wasn't a wonderful thing to watch, as you could see the life drain from Pettigrew's eyes and body. But it wasn't unbearable either. Maybe it's because I didn't really know him. The only time I saw him before was as a mutilated rat."

"When Black left him on your doorstop," Daphne murmured.

"Right." Harry nodded, closing his eyes. "The weirder part was afterwards, when Professor Snape, Sirius Black and I were left alone while the Ministry burned the body. Black would have been my godfather, as you know."

"Kind of a strange thought," Fred commented.

"Our Harrikins being the son of a Marauder is even more so though," George added.

"This was right before the Minister gave Black the Order of Merlin stripped from Pettigrew, right?" Pansy asked, deciding to ignore the Twins' banter. She'd seen the articles about the Kiss and the ceremony following it in the _Prophet_ , of course, but there was something about knowing what others didn't that was _tantalizing._

"That's right."

Truth be told, it had been more than a little awkward, with it being more than obvious to Harry that the Potions Master and the recently acquitted Black had _history_ , to put it politely. Now, Professor Snape had informed him of the fact that James Potter and friends had been a pack of bullies, but he was sure there was more to it than that.

"You thought it was me all these years, didn't you, Sn—Snape?" Black had all but growled, his voice low and cutting in the empty room. Not the sterile room the Dementor had just left, but an unused chamber in the Ministry where VIPs could wait before making public appearances at important events. "A part of you still think so, that I tricked the Ministry into acquitting me."

"The thought _had_ crossed my mind." Professor Snape's voice had been uncommonly cold. He was completely still, his face seeming like it had been carved from solid stone, but even that could not hide the depths of his loathing.

"Even though it was your _good_ _friend,_ Lucius Malfoy, who acquitted me?" the other man had pressed, an almost cruel satisfaction in his tone. "The man who made you godfather to his son?"

"…with you, I suspect everything, Black." The admission – and the reminder of whose side Snape had been on once – clearly took something from the Potions Master. "You were always good at escaping what you were due."

"Rich words from the Death Eater who told Voldemort about a prophecy – the prophecy," Black had hissed, with Harry freezing as he heard what the man had said. The once disgraced man – who still bore the gaunt, sunken features of his long imprisonment – noticed this and almost laughed. "Oh, you didn't know, Harry? _This_ man here, more than Pettigrew or anyone else, is responsible for the death of your parents."

No. It couldn't be. Harry expected Snape to deny it, given that the Professor had been one of the few people who had stood up for him, and was a good person at heart, but the Potions Master did not. Severus Snape had simply remained silent, closing his eyes as if he expected the world to crumble.

"And while I – an innocent man – suffered in Azkaban for over a decade, he went free," Black's vehemence, his deep-seated rage, had been palpable. "No. More than just going free, Dumbledore made him the youngest Head of House in the history of Hogwarts. For his part in killing your family, he was _rewarded._ "

The room had been utterly silent, without the Potions Master replying with any of the nastily cutting retorts he was known for. The seconds had dragged on, becoming a minute. Two minutes. Three.

"…Professor?" Harry had asked when he could take it no longer, his voice trembling with emotion. "Is this…?"

Severus Snape had never been able to lie to those eyes. _Her_ eyes. Even now.

"…it's true."

Two simple words they were, but they were two words that shook Harry to his very core. More than almost anyone else in the world, he'd trusted Professor Snape, and now the man had admitted to _this…?_

"You see, Heir of Slytherin?" Sirius Black had added, his voice dripping with disdain. "Your Head of House hid this from you all this time. Probably used his position to blacken my name – and that of your father – who he _hated._ But then, what do you expect from a _Death Eater_ who never suffered a day in his— _"_

The slap of stone against flesh had echoed in the chamber, as Severus Snape _moved,_ slamming Sirius Black against the wall, with the Potions Master holding a death grip around the other's throat.

" _Do you think you were the only one who suffered_?" the Potions Master had hissed, as Black grabbed ineffectually at Snape's hands, his eyes bulging. "You think that because Dumbledore left you to rot in Azkaban that _you have_ _the right to say I never suffered_? _You_ , who tried to kill me? _You,_ who hated me from the very start? _You and your friend James_ who drove me into the Dark Lord's arms?" Severus Snape had looked into Black's eyes, his gaze intense – almost _mad._ "Should I pity you for being entirely too clever and costing yourself everyone you cared about in the world, when _I blame myself for the same thing every day of my life?_ I at least tried to fix my mistake by defecting to the Light. You… _you told them all you killed them, letting Pettigrew escape. Never once did you accept that others suffered because of you and your selfishness!_ "

And then he'd let go, with Black falling to the floor in a crumpled heap, gasping for air, and Severus Snape shaking as he fought to reapply his usual mask of restraint.

"You…" Black had gasped as he struggled to get to his feet. "I…James was right then. Lily, all this time, you were obsessed with…"

Both he and Snape had frozen in place as two errant pieces of paper had attached themselves to their forms, with the room going quiet once more.

"With all due respect, whatever history you two have, _this isn't the time_." Harry's voice was glacial and dangerous, even if his expression was disturbingly calm. "From where I stand, you're _both_ guilty. One of you told Voldemort about the prophecy. The other, well, who was it who insisted Pettigrew be secret keeper?"

Both Sirius Black and Severus Snape would have flinched, if they could have moved, which they couldn't.

And then Harry released the spell, the strips of paper fluttering away, with Black looking at the Heir of Slytherin in shock.

"…wandless magic?" he'd whispered, stunned at what he'd just seen. And while it was technically illegal for Harry to have used his magic like this, given the nature of the Trace, it would be assumed one of _them_ had used the spell instead. "As a _third year?"_

"… _and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,"_ the Heir of Slytherin had intoned, brushing aside his hair to reveal a faded scar in the shape of a lightning-bolt, much to Sirius Black's confusion. During the occasions he had to visit the Ministry, he'd found the time to ask about the Prophecy concerning _him_ , and now knew its complete contents. "That's part of the Prophecy, you see."

"His equal…" Black's voice had been hollow as he echoed Harry's words. "Then you…the Heir of Slytherin…"

"Being frank, all I can remember of my parents are the nightmares I have about the night they died," the Boy-Who-Lived continued. "I think it's sad that they died, that they were betrayed by one of their friends, but I don't miss them." Harry had chuckled then, a low and bitter sound that shook the older wizards. "Whatever Professor Snape did, or you did, Black, it doesn't change the fact that Voldemort came after _me._ So if anyone is to blame for their deaths, _I am._ "

"…I don't…" Sirius Black had begun to reply, but had trailed off. The boy looked like a younger James Potter, after all, but it was clear he was nothing like his old friend. "…I don't know you."

"How could you?" Harry had asked. "You went after Pettigrew, after all, without telling Dumbledore what had happened. You didn't even ask him to review your case, because you felt you were guilty. And so I grew up without a godfather, with the Dursleys, while you were tortured by Dementors."

The Boy-Who-Lived had proceeded to laugh.

"Let yourself be tortured for a crime you felt you had committed, even though you could have escaped all this time," Harry had continued. "Because you didn't want to face a world where your friends were gone. And now that you've been pardoned, now that Pettigrew is gone, you just try to find someone else to blame, so you can still be the one who was wronged." He had glanced over at the form of Professor Snape, who looked like a man about to be executed. "Even if he was a Death Eater, at least Professor Snape is braver than _that_."

A knock on the door had interrupted the Boy-Who-Lived's tirade, with Harry going to the door.

"Ah, sirs," one of the functionaries or other had said. "The ceremony will begin in five minutes, so if you could make your way outside."

"We'll be out presently."

"Very well, Mister Potter."

Harry closed the door and turned back to the two.

"You don't even plan to stay in Britain, do you, Black?" the boy had asked plainly.

"…no, I don't," Sirius Black had admitted, his eyes looking at the distant figure of the Heir of Slytherin, the boy who looked so much like James, but was so utterly alien in his sensibilities. "As you've said, I have nothing keeping me here, so why should I stay?"

Harry had said no more, his point proven, though he managed to be cordial throughout the function, even when he placed an Order of Merlin around Black's neck for his bravery in suffering Azkaban.

In the present though, the Heir of Slytherin knew it wouldn't be wise to share most of _that_ mess, as much as it bothered him, so he chose to talk what he'd learned afterwards, which he imagined people would undoubtedly get excited about.

"Well, Black told me that he's emigrating to France," Harry supplied helpfully, noting the expressions of surprise on the face of his fellows. "He's planning on selling everything he owns, including his family's ancestral home in London."

Pansy and Daphne looked gobsmacked at this bit of news.

"…why Mister Potter, you never told me about this," the Greengrass girl commented with a coy smile on her face. "Even though you came over and visited during much of summer."

"I was…distracted," Harry evaded, his eyes looking back and forth a bit shiftily. Truth be told, Black's intent to sell his worldly possessions and leave the country hadn't really been on his mind, so much as some of the revelations about Professor Snape, and him wondering why the man had needed his Cloak of Invisibility.

"Selling the family's ancestral home in London and their library, too?" Pansy murmured, eyes widening when Harry nodded. "That's…huge."

"That's going to be the talk of Britain," Tracey chimed in. "The Prophet will be sure to speculate on who might buy it, but in the end, it will probably get bought up by Lucius Malfoy, since it isn't as if most of us can afford a place like that. Well, maybe you, Potter."

"…that would be a waste, since I spend most of the year at Hogwarts, and I already have a home," Harry said, with Pansy sniffing at this display of restraint.

"One can never have too much property, Harry," the girl chided, glancing over impishly at the boy. "Why I'm sure you might want a place for yourself one day, right? And whatever lucky girl you end up with, right?"

"Well…"

"…we certainly can't afford it," the Weasley Twins commented, shrugging. While their family income was considerably higher now than it had been in the past, without nearly as much in the way of expenses, the fact remained that their vault had only recently begun accruing savings again.

"So where is it, and how much would it be?" Shinji broke in, mostly out of curiosity. It wasn't as if he needed the house, since he spent his time either at Hogwarts or _Mahoutokoro_ , and he didn't want to just buy a house for the sake of buying it.

On the other hand, if Tohsaka was coming to London, having a well-appointed home available for her use might be yet another way to reinforce the impression of his wealth. And since she'd be going to the Tower, he supposed that _would_ solve the issue of the property being unused…

But the cabin went deathly quiet at his inquiry, with the Slytherins _and_ the Weasley Twins turning to look at him as if he'd grown another head. Luna, of course, was petting the fox sitting in her lap, and seemed blissfully unaware of the sudden attention on Matou.

"…did I say something wrong?" Shinji asked after a moment. Had he committed some egregious _faux pas_ or such?

Daphne was the first to find her voice.

"Matou, are you actually thinking about buying the home?" she inquired, looking at him oddly.

"Possibly," Shinji answered. Truth be told, he was just curious. "Why?"

"Because a house like this…it would probably cost something like a _million_ Galleons," Daphne informed him.

Purchasing 12 Grimmauld Place wouldn't be a cheap endeavor, after all.

Perhaps she expected to see the boy react in shock or surprise. If so, she was gravely disappointed.

"Oh, is that all?" was Shinji's response. "That isn't too bad."

From the way the others had reacted, he was expecting a far higher figure. A million Galleons, or five million Pounds sterling, was no small amount of change, certainly, but then the chest of jewels he'd sent Tohsaka the very first year he was at Hogwarts alone was worth more than that.

"…that…isn't?" Pansy echoed, her voice coming out in something like a strangled squeak. The casual manner in which he had answered had surprised everyone in the cabin.

…well, everyone but Luna Lovegood, who had seen the Room of Hidden Things

"Is it supposed to be?" Shinji asked, puzzled as to why his perception of price mattered so much.

"…you mean—"

"—you could outright buy—"

"—the Black estate—"

"—on a whim?" the Weasley Twins asked in unison, with Shinji nodding.

"Yes?" Shinji answered, not sure why they were making such a fuss over it. Certainly, a million Galleons wasn't pocket change, but he had access to the mountains of treasure in the Room of Hidden Things, a hoard that had been accumulated over a thousand years. Surely they all knew…

' _Ah, that's right. I never told them about the Room…'_

In fact, aside from him, he thought only Luna knew of the Room of Hidden Things, at least in the current compartment. Which was perhaps why, for once, she didn't look much surprised, just a little amused as she regarded everyone there.

' _Whoops.'_

The others, of course, did not miss Luna's lack of surprise, as they quietly looked between her and the Boy from the East, reassessing their degree of closeness. If Matou Shinji had told her of his wealth, _and_ they had matching familiars, perhaps they were closer than anyone thought.

" _Merlin!"_ The guttural whisper escaped like a curse from one of the girls – Shinji thought it might have been Pansy, but he wasn't sure. "You're _that_ rich?"

"…yes?"

To be fair, most of it wasn't actually in his accounts, but when one had nearly exclusive access to a treasure trove had gone unclaimed for a thousand years, it wasn't exactly wrong to count it as his by common law – or as Luna's he supposed, since she had free access to it. And well, the person he saw as his goal in terms of power and influence was the Director of Atlas Academy, to whom money wasn't even a consideration. In fact, she'd _given_ him this hoard to begin with, meaning that to her, it probably _was_ pocket change – something which made him painfully aware of just how much further he had to go.

Perhaps if he'd known that a million galleons was well beyond the ability of most people to easily afford, given that even an Auror would have to save up everything he or she earned for 50 years, without spending a knut to come close to having that much money – and that was one of the highest paying jobs in Magical Britain.

Indeed, this was a land where 1000 galleons – 5000 pounds sterling – was considered a great signing bonus for a nationally ranked athlete, so only someone whose family was already wealthy would casually mention being able to spend so much at once.

Like Lucius Malfoy, for example.

…or well, Matou Shinji, as it appeared.

"I see," Daphne said slowly. "That's interesting to know."

It did change up the political Arithmancy of Hogwarts just a little bit. They all knew that Matou was powerful, with a mastery of the Eastern Arts, and that he had a good deal of influence, being the head of the Ourea and such. They hadn't known he had access to such quantities of funds, and the Slytherins – Harry aside – didn't think it was an accident that he'd decided to reveal it _now_.

Clearly, he was beginning a long term power play of some kind, with the acquisition of the Black House the first step in establishing himself as a political rival of the Malfoy family.

"So, wee Matou—"

"—tell us then—"

"—of your adventures in Japan." The Weasley Twins changed the topic, as they weren't used to speaking about such things. Their family had always been ridiculed for being in a state of poverty, but Matou apparently had never endured that sort of thing. Later on, they'd have some questions for him in the Founders' Tower, but that was later on.

"That's right, you arrived by Portkey with Lovegood and her father, this time, didn't you?" Pansy inquired, her expression intent and curious.

"Mm, Luna's father was invited to give a talk at _Mahoutokoro_ about some of the creatures of Britain," Shinji began, thinking that his friends didn't need to know all the…messy details about his lack of cooking skill, or how Sajyou-san had trained him in what would probably be called the Dark Arts here. "And to learn about some of the creatures of Japan."

"What, the editor of the _Quibbler_?" Tracey exclaimed, raising an eyebrow.

"And if he is?" Shinji asked mildly.

"I…well, that is…how was he invited at all?" the girl asked, confused. The _Quibbler_ was a…was a _tabloid_ , not some reputable publication, though she wouldn't say that to Lovegood's face.

"Oh, apparently the Crumple-horned Snorkack is actually the Kirin, a legendary beast in Japan," Luna commented, one of her hands alight with the glow of yang energy, which she shaped into a ball and allowed to blink out. "And they have things like Heliopaths there – three-legged crows that control the power of fire."

"Three-legged…" Pansy echoed, wrinkling her nose as she tried to figure out where the other leg would go…

"One of my mentors has one as her familiar," Shinji supplied helpfully. The bird in and of itself had been something of a pain to face, as it could fly away from his spells, burn his ofuda with scorching winds, and more.

"Do you mean your Master?" Daphne inquired. She only knew the summary she'd heard from her friends, since she had been alone with Harry the year before, but apparently Matou was apprenticed to a Professor of Ancient Runes.

"No, one of her associates, though she did train me in runecraft, and I'll be glad to help if anyone needs it," Matou replied.

"Hm, we may take you up on that. Ourea should help each other after all," Daphne said agreeably.

"Naturally. In any case, since Luna's father was busy, she took Luna and myself on a quest to obtain familiars of our own."

"A quest you say—"

"—that's a fancy way—"

"—of saying you went—"

"—to a pet shop," the Twins commented.

"That's because we didn't," Luna replied, with her fox waking up and hopping over onto Pansy's lap, startling the other girl.

"Oh? Enlighten us then," Daphne requested. She – and the others were curious to hear about this, given how easy it was to just buy an owl, toad, cat or such, with their standardized set of abilities. The only people who had more unusual familiars were those like Dumbledore, whose familiars chose them, a process they found mysterious.

Harry and the Twins had heard of the creature of Japan, but they were curious as to how one went about obtaining a familiar there as well, if not from a shop.

"To obtain a familiar in _Mahoutokoro_ , one must undertake a rite of passage," Shinji explained. "A month-long trek into the remote mountains with only your magic to guide you, and whatever supplies you can carry. I didn't even have the luxury of a tent."

Which was perhaps stretching things a tad, but was, technically speaking, true, since he had _not_ bought a tent.

"What was that like?" Pansy asked, curious as she pictured going off into the woods – alone.

"Strange. It's odd how quiet it is without people around, when you can hear the sounds of the world around you."

"It was like northern Sweden – with mountains, forests, and other things," Luna added, a wistful expression on her face. "Everything except the aurora."

"Aurora?" the others asked, having never seen such a thing before.

"Lights dancing in the sky," Luna explained. "Red and greens and blues. You only see them in the north or in the south."

"I see. I don't think I've ever seen one."

"They don't normally come down as far as Hogwarts, except if the sun is very stormy," Luna said in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice.

"…the sun…has storms?" Tracey asked, more than a little skeptical. They hadn't covered _that_ in Astronomy, though to be fair, much of their studies focused on the night sky and the movement of the planets, as was to be expected, as Astronomy was only held at night. "I'll take your word for it."

"You don't have to," George commented.

"It's something we study—"

"—in Fifth year," Fred and George finished together.

"Interesting," Tracey noted, looking between Shinji and Luna. "So you went on that trip together, huh?" She paused meaningfully, though neither of the two who'd been to Japan said anything further. "And you just got…foxes out of it?"

"That's right," Shinji answered.

This confused Tracey. While cute, a fox wasn't actually that impressive to look at, and she couldn't imagine going on a long journey just to get one. It didn't seem any better than anything one could buy from the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley.

"So why not just…buy one?"

"Because all foxes are magical in Japan," Luna murmured, her voice quiet and soothing. "And for one to choose you means they will share their magic with you."

"Their magic?" Pansy echoed.

"Something about fire?" Harry recalled from the night Shinji had regaled the Stone Cutters with tales of the native creatures of his land. "And illusion."

"Something like that," Shinji confirmed. He didn't want to go too far into the specifics. "They're more like protectors and companions than pets. That's why you have to go on a journey to earn their trust."

"That—"

"—is pretty—"

"—wicked," the Twins said, looking at each other. "Did you face anything else?"

"Any trolls?"

"Any giant snakes?"

"Any marauding Kappa?"

Shinji sighed.

"First off, not all Kappa are vicious, given that the variant you talk about is found in Mongolia, not Japan," he explained. "As for giant snakes or trolls, no."

"That's…"

"…disappointing."

"I did fight a demon bear though," Shinji allowed, which got the attention of everyone in the cabin. "About as big as a troll, with spells from my wand just bouncing off of it."

"…how did you beat it?" Pansy asked in a hush.

"Or _did_ you beat it?" Tracey inquired.

Shinji just smiled.

"Some of the Eastern Arts," he said simply. "Like what I used against the troll."

Well, not _just_ those, but then a magus never revealed everything he was capable of – even if he wasn't really a magus.

"So out of the Stone Cutters, who's the best of you?" Pansy asked, looking between all of them with interest. "I mean, if you were to duel each other, that is."

"Well, we're each skilled in different things," Shinji said diplomatically. "Harry here is very good at Defense."

"Wee Matou has his Eastern Arts," George commented.

"And the Head Boy hands us both _our_ arses," Fred added, remembering some of those training battles. "But then, he's the youngest person to cast a corporeal Patronus. And he's been training under Moody."

"Speaking of Moody…didn't you _beat_ Moody, Matou?"

"Only with the help of the talented practitioners of Ravenclaw," Shinji demurred. "I couldn't have beat him alone."

"Huh, so modest too. You'd fit right in if you were in Slytherin," Tracey commented, the corners of her lips twitching slightly. "Ever fancy changing houses?"

"No," Shinji said after a moment, as a tired Luna Lovegood leaned against his shoulder and closed her eyes, dozing off after a long day. "I like where I am just fine."

"…no doubt."

Tracey's statement of assent was a bit dry as she eyed the two, but it was clear the two wouldn't have much else to say, so she turned to the twins.

"So, what about you? We all know about the hijinks of the Weasley Twins of Gryffindor, and now your father is going to be Charms Professor. What's that like?"

"That's—"

"—a bit of a story."

"Well, we love stories, don't we?" Shinji's question was an ironic echo of what the two had said to him before boarding the train.

"Alas, even Matou has turned against us."

"We're outnumbered, Fred!"

"Oh well, George, I suppose we have no choice."

"We'll talk."

And so they did, with quite a few interesting anecdotes that made the journey a rather lively one, since Shinji wasn't able to fold origami this time, as he wanted to let his companion rest. He was used to the time difference - she wasn't.

All in all though, the ride on the Hogwarts Express was how it always was - just long enough to reach their destination.


	11. No Stone Unturned

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 11.** _No Stone Unturned_

For Hermione Granger, the ride on the _Hogwarts Express_ was somewhat disappointing, as she'd been hoping to see Matou after the summer. Having wrestled with her lingering grief for the late Sokaris – and seeing how guilt affected even the Boy-Who-Lived – the girl wondered how Shinji had managed to hold up so well, when, as she admitted, Matou had probably been closer to Sokaris than almost anyone else.

She could admit that to herself now.

In hindsight, they'd both been her friends when no one else had bothered – shouldn't that have been enough? But it hadn't been. At first she had resented Matou for taking Sokaris' time and attention, with the purple-haired girl seeming to choose him over her, but he'd been so unexpectedly _kind_ to her that night when she broke down.

He hadn't made fun of her, hadn't told anyone about her moment of weakness, as she feared he might. The boy from the east had just held her as she cried out her frustration, and when she collapsed from exhaustion, he'd simply let her sleep – even getting a blanket to keep her warm.

She'd never thought someone could be that gentle towards her, especially when he hadn't been her friend then, but her rival for Sokaris' attention, and an attention seeking rulebreaker at that. But he'd been braver and more skilled than she was, too, as he'd shown when he'd faced a Dark Wizard, something she didn't think she'd have the nerve to do.

Which was why, after Sokaris' passing, she'd felt incredibly guilty that she'd been jealous over how close her friends were.

She hadn't been there – because she couldn't have been. She wasn't a Gryffindor. She knew her limits, and knew how, even if she knew the theory behind magic and a number of advanced charms, she couldn't hope to match a Dark Wizard. People had cheered when she'd managed to land a blow on Professor Moody on that first day of Defense in second year, but she knew that she couldn't have done it without Matou's encouragement and the plan he'd put together.

He'd stood beside her, believing in her more than she believed in herself.

Matou Shinji had been a pillar of strength for those around him – for the Ravenclaws, for the Boy-Who-Lived, for _her._ He'd helped her, accepted everything she threw at him, the awkward confession she'd made, even chose her as a promising future leader, a founding member of the Ourea to sit at his right hand.

…and what had she done for him?

Now that she thought back, despite everything he'd done for her to help her through her grief and get her to believe in herself, she hadn't been able to do much to help him, except some of the Consul work which she didn't mind anyway.

She'd never asked how he was doing, how he felt about Sokaris, if he needed help at all, even though looking back, the fact that Matou took so much on himself was probably his way of trying to forget.

…it was sobering to realize that she had been a very terrible friend to someone who had probably been hurting worse than she was, but yet had not walked away from her even when it would have made his life so much easier.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" one of her companions asked – one Neville Longbottom, who she'd met on the train to Hogwarts in first year when he'd lost his toad, and who was now one of her peers in the Ourea. "You look like you're thinking about something." He frowned. "More than usual, I mean."

"It's…nothing, really," the bushy-haired brunette lied, looking out the window. Nothing she wanted to share, at least.

"It's Matou, isn't it?" a voice asked quietly. Fay Dunbar, this was, a third-year whose crowning achievement was being a Gryffindor who excelled at Potions – as grudgingly acknowledged by Snape himself, and yet still found time to train as a reserve Beater for the Quidditch team under the harsh regime of Oliver Wood.

"How…?" Hermione startled, her head whipping around to stare at the other girl.

"I can tell by the look on your face," Fay replied, her expression sympathetic. "And well, the rumors do say that you two are going out…"

At this, Hermione only winced and shook her head.

"…no. Even if I wish we were," she whispered.

He hadn't actually accepted her confession, after all, saying that that they should start with being friends and go from there.

"You're not?" Fay echoed, blinking in surprise. But her thoughts turned to an incident from some time ago, when Matou Shinji had met them in the Hogwarts kitchens for a meal, something she still wondered about. Had the boy arranged the meeting as a prelude for induction into the Stone Cutters? One of their Founding members would graduate this year, after well… "Huh. I suppose that's why he was with Lovegood when he met us for a meal in the kitchens, not you…"

"H-he was with _her?_ " the girl squeaked, eyes wide as she heard about this dinner for the first time. The mention of the younger Ravenclaw's name hurt too – and now that she thought about it, she realized she didn't know much about the Lovegood girl, except that she was eccentric and that her father was the publisher of a tabloid of some kind.

Surely they couldn't be….

…Matou would have told her…

…right?

He wouldn't be…so cruel…

"Are they…?" Hermione managed in a small voice, almost frightened by whatever the answer was going to be.

But Neville shook his head.

"Luna said they were friends, or partners," he responded, wanting to do what he could to calm the distraught Hermione Granger. "But then, from what the rumors say, they've known each other for years, even before she came to Hogwarts. Or at least it seemed like it on the train last year."

' _Known each other for years….'_

She'd heard that Luna and her father were oddities who enjoyed travelling to odd places in search of strange creatures, but…

'… _is that how_ Lovegood _knows_ Matou?'

Was Luna Lovegood, perhaps, a _childhood friend_ of Shinji's? Was _that_ why the two seemed so close – because they had a pre-existing relationship? With all that she had asked of Matou, had she driven the boy to find comfort in someone he was already close to – someone he obviously didn't mind being seen with for Stone Cutter related business (even if she herself didn't approve of them)?

She felt a pang of discomfort as she remembered how Lovegood had danced with Matou at the Deathday celebration, and how well they seemed to fit together.

The thought was…terrifying, even if they weren't actually seeing each other.

"I see," Hermione said after some moments of awkward silence. She cast about for something to talk about – something _other_ than relationships, and hit on something after all. "Oh, did you all get invitations to the Potions Boot Camp?"

Fay nodded.

"Of course. I'm guessing you did, too?" the Scottish girl inquired. She glanced over at Neville, and when he didn't comment, decided to speak for him. "So did Neville, actually, which I'm rather glad about, since Potions and Herbology are combined this year."

Neville smiled, his expression a little lopsided.

"I'm a little surprised Professor Snape invited me, actually, since I used to melt cauldrons…" the boy commented, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Neville Longbottom, you haven't melted one since first year," his friend replied with a tone of wry exasperation. She chuckled, seeing his chagrined expression. "Not that it didn't take a good bit of effort to help you improve."

"…at least you knew there was nowhere for me to go but up?" Neville joked weakly, with the corners of Hermione's lips tugging upward despite herself. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to not only admit her faults, but joke about them. That took a form of courage she didn't think she had… "Thanks though, Fay."

"I was glad to help," the girl responded, her expression sly and playful. "After all, you showed me all the things _not_ to do in Potions."

"…I'd resent that remark, if I didn't resemble it."

From there, the trio discussed some other school related things, from the business of Consuls to speculations with what the Ourea tests might involve this year – given that Lockhart had forced them to face Dementors the previous year, they didn't put anything past him – from Potions Camp and the upcoming Potions Championship to the classes they'd chosen for themselves.

Neville had chosen Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.

Fay had chosen Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.

And Hermione had chosen Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

"I was thinking about taking Ancient Studies as well, since I want to learn more about places like Egypt, but I don't really have time," she commented, shaking her head. "And with Professor Lockhart, I think I have enough of History."

"Oh?" Neville remarked. "You don't like Lockhart?"

The boy was surprised at this, as he found Gilderoy Lockhart to be far better than Binns. For one, no one had ever fallen asleep in Lockhart's History class – not that anyone would have dared. In some ways, the man could be utterly terrifying in his intensity, for all that he was clearly passionate about History and the pursuit of knowledge.

"It's…" She found it difficult to put her objection into words, but she supposed she disliked how Lockhart loved to tear apart the official histories of Magical Britain, deconstructing the arguments and beliefs of others, without leaving much of a replacement. He destroyed the foundations that people took comfort in, leaving only the cold reality of fact behind.

She didn't know why that bothered her, given how quick she had once been to correct people who she thought to be wrong, but perhaps it simply was that she had clung to what she saw in books as the unvarnished truth. In her own way, she'd come to see books as her friends, accepting what they had to say without critically thinking about the implications of their contents, and so it felt like a betrayal to have to repudiate them – which Lockhart made her do.

"I guess I don't," she admitted, much to the others' surprise. "I always felt sorry for Professor Binns, who tried so hard to teach everyone, though no one paid attention."

Neville blinked.

"But…Professor Binns never paid attention to any of us."

"He didn't even know our names," Fay chimed in. "Why, the number of times he's called me Miss Moneypenny, or Neville 'Mr. Mansfield'…."

"…well, yes, but he means well."

Fay sighed.

"Anyone can mean well, Hermione," she told the other girl. "Whether things end well is another story…"

"I guess."

The group was silent for a time, before the quiet was broken by a plaintive "meow", as Hermione's black cat woke from its slumber, glancing around at the others in the cabin and jumping onto Fay's lap, where the other girl patted it gingerly.

"That's a nice cat you have," Neville observed, a wry expression on his face. "Much better than a toad that runs away all the time."

"An unusual cat too," Fay commented, noticing its red eyes, and the fact that it wore a collar with an ankh about its neck. "Doesn't look like one of the ones from the _Magical Menagerie_."

"It's not," Hermione admitted. "I bought her when I went to Egypt this summer."

"Oh? Egypt you say?" Fay murmured, her eyes curious. "I've always envied people who can travel – my family doesn't have the money to go many places. What does yours do?"

"My Mom and Dad are both dentists," Hermione answered, getting a puzzled reaction from the other two.

"Dentists?"

"Oh, it's a Muggle profession," Hermione had to explain. "They're like Healers, but they specialize in fixing people's teeth."

"Huh. There's a job for that?" Neville asked. The concept of a dentist was something utterly foreign to him. "And how do they do it without magic?"

"Well, that's a long story."

As it turned out, she ended up having to explain the concept of higher education, professional schools for medicine, dentistry and other such and other such, leaving her wondering if the Wizarding World was really any better than the other.

* * *

After they disembarked at Hogsmeade, Hermione said her goodbyes to Neville and Fay and set about the task of finding Matou, with her cat trailing behind her. She suspected all she'd have to do was look for the petite form of Luna Lovegood – and she was right, though she hadn't expected to see the Weasley Twins with him – especially not when he was around the Slytherins.

One of the Slytherins in fact, a certain Pansy Parkinson, was behaving in a very _familiar_ manner with Matou, seeming to hang on his every word and giving him flirtatious looks, which irritated the bushy-haired brunette, though she somehow managed to keep from barging over and making a fool of herself.

After all, if Lovegood didn't see the Slytherin as a threat, then Hermione figured she should just wait.

And her patience was rewarded.

Soon enough, the group split up, with the Slytherins going one way, the Weasley Twins a second, and Matou and Lovegood yet a third, with what looked like foxes trailing them – one black and one white.

'… _they both have foxes?'_

That was a pet that weren't available in the _Magical Menagerie,_ certainly. If her hunch was right, the two of them probably obtained their pets in Japan…which seemed to give credence to the childhood friend theory, and made her wonder if Luna had been in Japan this summer, with Shinji.

Still, even if they were, there was nothing she could do about it, so she quickened her pace, walking over to the pair with a small smile on her face, with the others turning as she approached.

"Matou!" the brunette greeted cheerfully, trying to suppress her nervousness, and noting in the process that Shinji was carrying a miniature tree – a bonsai, if she recalled properly. "How was your summer? Oh, what's the tree for? …and hello, Lovegood."

"Hello Hermione," Shinji responded, a wry smile flitting across his lips, as if he'd half-expected to run into her. "It was…eventful, I suppose. My Master gave me some instruction in Ancient Runes, and I learned more about the art of dueling."

Hermione blinked.

"You used magic in the summer?" she asked, startled by Shinji so casually admitting to violating the Ministry's Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. "But that's illegal! According to the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, the use of underage magic is banned outside of school!"

"Well, one, that decree applies only in Britain, not Japan," Shinji replied, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, I was being trained at _Mahoutokoro_ , by one of the instructors at the school of witchcraft."

"But what about summer break?"

"The school system there runs on a different schedule than Hogwarts," Luna commented in her singsong voice, her wide, silvery eyes looking over Hermione. "Hullo, Hermione Granger."

"…I didn't expect to see you here, Luna," Hermione stated blandly.

"I find its better not to expect things. One is usually less disappointed that way," Luna murmured, with Hermione swallowing at the possible implications of that sentence. Just what did the younger girl mean by this?

Still, she worked up the courage to give voice to what it was she feared had transpired…

"…were - were you with Matou this summer?" Hermione managed. "In Japan, that is?"

There had been rumors about him appearing by Portkey with Luna and her father, but how had this come to be? Had they perhaps spent the entire summer…together?

As she wondered, her black cat slunk forward until it was stood before the shadowy form of Matou Shinji's golden-eyed fox, staring at the canid with its blood-red eyes. It was an oddly intelligent sort of stare, as if wondering what it was seeing was really there.

"Yes," Luna replied with a small smile. "Dad was invited to give a talk at _Mahoutokoro_ , and I was able to come along. It's nice travelling the world, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, it is," Hermione answered. She didn't know if the answer relieved her or not, as at least it wasn't as if Matou had personally invited her over to Japan, right?

"You enjoyed your trip to Egypt, then?" the blonde questioned, with both Hermione and Shinji giving a start at her words.

"…you…how did you know I went to Egypt?" Hermione Granger narrowed her eyes at the younger girl. She hadn't told anyone about the trip, not even Matou, so…

"The ankh," Luna remarked, gesturing both to the pendant around Hermione's neck, as well as the matching symbol that hung from her cat's collar. "The Egyptian symbol of life. You didn't wear any jewelry last year."

"You…noticed that?" Hermione's voice was quiet. She hadn't expected anyone to pay attention to her for anything besides her academics and her skills, yet this girl noticed a little thing like the ankh?

"I look at the world as it is, seeing what is there, and what might be," the blonde murmured.

"…like a Seer?" Hermione found herself asking, somewhat incredulously. "You can see the future?"

But wasn't divination…a fraud? It had been removed from the curriculum, after all.

"No, just the present. Just what is," Luna answered, kneeling down and stroking the length of her fox's spine. "What is your cat's name?"

"Um…her name is Sy-k-ri."

"Sy-k-ri," Shinji repeated thoughtfully, noting the resemblance of the word to the name of a certain mutual friend of theirs. "I suppose Sokaris would have been honored that you'd decided to name a familiar after her." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Or I suppose she might have just been amused. It's hard to say, with her…"

"How did you know I named it after her?"

As soon as she asked the question though, she felt foolish. She already knew that Matou and Sokaris had been close, so _of course_ he would have picked up on the similarity.

"I know how much you cared about her, Hermione," Shinji said gently, some unreadable emotion in his eyes, "and how much you miss her, even now."

"…and what about you?" she asked as she gazed upon the boy from the east, her cheeks pink despite herself. "Don't you miss her?"

"I do," Shinji admitted.

And in truth he did, for even if the girl who had called herself Sialim Sokaris was still alive, he only rarely saw her – the person who was everything he wanted to be. With her as the Director of Atlas and him but a practitioner of witchcraft, and a student, to boot, there was an incredible distance between them, one which was bridged once a year, perhaps, if he was lucky.

"More than most people know, I think," he elaborated. Sokaris had been the only person at Hogwarts who knew his secrets, who knew of the truth of the Moonlit World. The only person who came close to that was Luna, and even she didn't know everything about him. At least, not yet. "Except you, maybe, since you were one of her closest friends."

And to be frank, besides him and Sokaris, Hermione had had no other friends.

Hermione looked away, finding Matou's gaze painful to endure.

"…it hurts."

"I know."

"Then why…how are you so strong?" _'How were you not torn apart by grief…like I was?'_

"Because that's what she would have wanted of me," Shinji replied, leaving Hermione thoughtful. "Just as in her memory, you've studied potions quite intensely."

He'd noticed that towards the end of last year, when she'd brewed potions for some of the students at Hogwarts, and actually helped to clarify how to brew certain potions to other students when Snape had been otherwise distracted. But then, given that she'd been in possession of the _Book of Potions_ for over a year, such was really no surprise.

"Speaking of Potions, are you joining the Potions Boot Camp?" Hermione asked, her voice hopeful. It would be nice if they could spend more time together, working on one of the things Sokaris was best at.

"No, I'm not," Shinji answered almost immediately.

' _Why?'_ Hermione couldn't help but wonder, her face falling as she looked between Shinji and Luna Lovegood. Did he want to spend more time with his…with his childhood friend, instead of her? Last year he had taken up every responsibility or offer thrown his way, so why had things changed?

"I will teach you what I learned of potions and herblore while I was in the East though," Shinji continued, a small smile crossing his lips. "Maybe that will give you an advantage in becoming Hogwarts Potions Champion. You might need it with Harry and the Weasley Twins also competing for the spot."

The brunette's eyes widened not at the revelation of who would compete, but the offer. He was closely associated with the Stone Cutters, but yet he would choose to help _her?_ He would choose her over Harry Potter? Over the Weasley Twins?

"You would…choose me?" she whispered, not knowing what to think, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.

"I would," Shinji answered, with Hermione feeling very warm inside, as if everything was right with the world. And then he spoke again, leaving her more uncertain, the warmth taken away. "I'm sure Sokaris would want it that way."

Aside from that, he was sure Harry had other things on his mind than a competition, and he was pretty sure that as…creative as they were, the Twins wouldn't need the advantage of whatever bits of Herblore he could provide.

They'd probably appreciate having more of a challenge, though.

"Just what _she_ would want, Matou?" she murmured, a hint of bitterness seeping into her voice.

When Shinji looked at her, what did he see? Was it just Sokaris' friend?

"Well, not just that," Shinji replied quietly. "I want to see you happy too, to see you succeed. Because I care, Hermione."

"Thank you." Hermione looked down, biting her lip as the sensation of warmth returned. It was _nice_ to know someone really did care about her and wanted her to succeed. Even if she didn't know what form that care took yet, or didn't think she really deserved it...

"There's something else I want to tell you," Shinji said after a moment, with Hermione slowly meeting his eyes.

"Y-yes?"

She wondered what it was he was going to say. Could it be he had decided to accept her confession? Was he going to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him? Or—

"I'm appointing you as Consul over the Third Year Ravenclaws," the boy from the east pronounced, shaking his head. Not quite what she'd been hoping for, and a bit odd, really. He wasn't the type to just give up power, after all...

"…why?" she asked, doubt seeping into her mind once more. "Don't you want it?"

Or did he have something else he needed the time for? Something he valued more?

"I have other things to do this year," Shinji answered, looking over to the castle. With Hillard graduating, he needed to learn all he could from his fellow Stone Cutter, and he wanted to spend more time working on his _ofuda_ as well as learning about and working with his familiar. He'd gained a rare privilege, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste.

"I see…"

"Besides, there's no one else I'd trust but you to rule in my stead," the boy concluded warmly, with Hermione impulsively stepping forward and giving him a big hug, before remembering that Luna was there and watching them.

' _How could I be so…shameless? Just hugging him in public…?'_

But Luna didn't seem to mind, acting as if such an event was only to be expected – which was actually more chilling to her than any display of jealousy might have been, because it meant she didn't consider Hermione as a competitor.

"I'll do my best!" she said, stepping back hastily. Hopefully it wouldn't be as much work as last year, but she'd manage, somehow. After all, he trusted her, and she couldn't betray that trust.

"Zelkova, my shoulder," Shinji stated, as his fox broke from its staring match with Hermione's cat and scampered up the Ravenclaw's leg. "Anyway, I'm sure we have a lot to catch up on."

"I'm sure…"

"Mm, where did you get your cat?" Luna inquired, with her white fox mirroring the movement of Shinji's, though instead of her shoulder, it climbed to sit atop her head.

"Oh, I found her in a shop called the _Giant's Pit,"_ Hermione recalled, thinking back to the trip to Egypt and the odd store she'd been in. "Odd name, really. _"_

For the first time, Shinji seemed a little startled.

" _Giant's Pit,_ you say…" he echoed. That was one of the other names of Atlas, and so he wondered if Sion was playing a game of some sort.

"Yes," Hermione acknowledged, confused at Shinji's seeming confusion. "Why, where did you find yours?"

Shinji chuckled.

"That is a long story."

"Mm, we have time to share it, on the way to the castle," Luna remarked.

"Oh, alright," Shinji conceded. And so he shared a few details of his journey into the wilds – leaving out anything too embarrassing like his defeats, his needing to share a tent, or his failures in cooking, of course, which left Hermione wondering how Luna had gotten hers, since the other girl didn't say a thing.

* * *

At the Welcome Feast, Severus Snape paled at what he saw. Somehow, hovering over Lockhart was a shadow of someone impossible. The power he had been granted by possessing Wand and Stone told him that Lockhart had somehow killed Bartemius Crouch Jr, and a host of others this summer. Muggles or foreigners, he presumed, as he did not know their faces.

But it was the face he did know that worried him that shocked him to the core, for he – like everyone else in Magical Britain – thought Bartemius Crouch Jr _was already dead._

'… _Gilderoy Lockhart? Who_ are _you?'_


	12. Tinfoil Hats

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 12.** _The Best Laid Plans_

For Matou Shinji, the walk over to the castle wasn't entirely unpleasant, though he definitely felt an odd sense of tension and unease from Hermione, who kept looking over at Luna when she thought he wasn't paying attention. He was glad she seemed to be doing alright, especially after a trip to Egypt, which no doubt would have awakened the worst of her grief, but the presence of her familiar – a cat with odd red eyes who reacted to the materialized spirit body of his own had made him curious.

One did not simply _buy_ more advanced familiars, after all – they were earned either though making them out of spirit and flesh, or through the completion of a quest of some sort or other that impressed them in their native states.

And so the fact that Hermione said she had simply bought Sykri in a shop called the _Giant's Pit_ invited some degree of suspicion in the Matou boy's mind, though it was nothing he could deal with immediately. It was just one of a number of things he'd have to address in his various letters home, along with telling his _grandfather_ some of the things he'd done in the last couple of years and what he wished to do in terms of the Tohsaka situation.

He was reasonably sure he didn't want an arranged marriage – at least not yet, anyway. While Tohsaka could be quite cute when she was flustered, and he did enjoy impressing her with his various gifts and exploits, she wasn't the one he saw as his ideal, nor someone who had truly walked with him on his journey. When his horizons had been limited to the small world of Fuyuki, Tohsaka Rin had been his ideal, given her potential in magecraft and the fact that she was the _heiress_ of her family, while he'd been replaced, thought of as worthless.

But after two years abroad – two years in which he'd gone to Hogwarts and begun forging his own path, earning not only one of Magical Britain's top honors, but a provisional apprenticeship to Aozaki Touko and the respect of the Director of Atlas Academy – he'd learned there was so much more to the world than simply inheriting a way of magecraft.

That was a lesson he didn't think Tohsaka had yet learned, though perhaps she might learn it when she came to Britain and decided what to do for herself, free from the control of Kotomine Kirei and his…well, whatever the strange child he saw in Fuyuki had been.

And despite her considerable power – power that probably exceeded his own, Shinji didn't think the present Tohsaka Rin was really someone who could stand by his side. He could see her becoming someone like that, if she had the freedom to grow and a goal to reach (…and well, a not inconsiderable part of himself was amused that she saw him as her ideal, in quite the reversal of roles).

In the here and now though, there were only two people who he could see himself sharing a future with. One of them was one of the girls walking with him to Hogwarts – and one of them was somewhere far beyond his reach, and not just in a physical sense.

Which just meant that his road was going to be a long one, with many unexpected twists and turns and perils, for the world he was ultimately a part of was more than just Magical Britain or _Mahoutokoro,_ orthe city of Fuyuki, and there were no convenient guides to success in this greater world.

Only perhaps, mentors, if he was lucky enough to find them. People like Aozaki Touko, his Master, or…well, actually, he couldn't think of an equivalent at Hogwarts, which was something he'd need to remedy. Professor Flitwick might have been an option once, but in his role as Headmaster, the man was far too busy for that now. Professor Snape was a possibility, with his no-nonsense philosophy and abilities, but Shinji doubted the man would have much time for him, given that he was not only a Head of House, but was busy preparing students for the Potions Competition.

' _Heh…'_

For now, the closest thing he had to a mentor at Hogwarts was Professor Lockhart, given how involved the man had become in his successes, and vice versa, and his obvious competence. True, the man still unsettled him on a very basic level, but it wasn't was if his Master didn't…

* * *

If the Welcoming Feast was rather remarkable at all, it was only in that for the first time in ages, the students received a proper Start-of-Term speech from the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, speaking of the importance of unity and working together to make the school a better place. Whatever one's house, whatever one's year, those who were or had been students of Hogwarts were like a family, working, living, growing together.

Sometimes, they might disagree. Sometimes, they might have cause to quarrel. Often (always), they would compete in things like Quidditch, Gobstones, or more, but in the end, they were stronger together than apart.

This year, with all the changes that had been made in the last few years, with a new Headmaster, new Ravenclaw Head of House, new Professors and changes in the curriculum, it was easy to think that the Hogwarts of old was gone.

But even if the people changed, Flitwick said, the soul of the school remained the same. Students who were cunning, students who were brave, students who were witty and hardworking – students who were all of these and more.

The Stone Cutters, who Professor Flitwick had had the honor of advising and mentoring for the last two years, had demonstrated those qualities time and time again, and he'd asked them to stand and be recognized, urging the other students to look to them as an example of what was possible.

Heroes, after all, and Champions were men and women who did what was right – not just what was easy – who worked hard, thought quickly, and stood for what they believed in.

This year, Hogwarts sought a champion to represent them in the Wizarding Schools Potions Competition – as well as to train champions for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which would also be coming in the following year. Both of these were a chance for the world to see what Hogwarts and its students were made of, to learn through their challenges the truth of the motto of Hogwarts – _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus –_ "Never tickle a sleeping dragon."

When Filius Flitwick ended his speech, the student body rose to their feet one by one. And while Dumbledore's odd speeches were usually met with confusion and students eager to get to their meal, this speech was met with raucous applause.

 _This_ was what a Headmaster should be.

 _This_ was a man who clearly cared about the school and its students, who believed in that each and every one of them had the potential for greatness, regardless of what house they were in or where they had come from.

After all, was he himself not a part-goblin? And if faced with a disadvantage like that, Filius Flitwick could rise to become the Headmaster of Hogwarts, then what was possible for _them_?

Compared to that, the announcements about the combined Herbology and Potions sessions and how some of the Forbidden Forest would be opened up for the use of third years and above was not nearly as stunning as it might otherwise be. Nor that the list of items prohibited during the time of Argus Filch had been rescinded, with Hagrid, the new Caretaker, not really caring overmuch about pranks – he was simply happy to still be at Hogwarts.

(The previous year, Dumbledore had simply used Filch's old list, but with his passing, these notes were gone, and there was to be a new order at Britain's finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.)

Following dinner, the students had headed off to their dorms as per usual, with Shinji once more being given use of one of the study rooms, as Flitwick had let Professor Sinestra know that he was sensitive to the presence of too many other people. Shinji breathed a sigh of relief at this, given that he needed a safe place to place the bonsai tree that was the material body of his familiar.

He thought a spot over by the window would be nice, and had just set the pot down when his black fox _shapeshifted_ , taking on the appearance of a horned boy in white Japanese-styled clothing, with silver hair and golden eyes.

'… _I did not know the_ kodama's _aspect could do that.'_

"A curious place with much history to it," Zelkova remarked – in English, at that, looking around at the austere surroundings of the study room. "The castle certainly has enough prana to support my existence. Still, this room is more severe than I would have expected, given the luxurious Common Room."

"It's not meant to be a bedroom," Shinji explained, raising an eyebrow at the other's appearance. "But coming from the more dangerous part of the magical world, I prefer being safe, and being able to control who comes near."

"Especially when you are sleeping and most vulnerable," the other inferred, nodding. "Most prudent. Given that my physical anchor is here, I can certainly raise a bounded field to complement whatever other protections you place."

"That…would not be unwelcome," Shinji allowed slowly. "They wouldn't be able to keep me out though, would they?"

"You're suspicious for a human, but then I suppose most onmyouji aren't the trusting sort," Zelkova conceded, shaking his head. "But as to your question, they could not, as we have a contract."

"Good to hear," Shinji murmured. He had wondered, since Sajyou-san only mentioned how one might obtain a familiar, and the book on Japan's _youkai_ had covered only their usual characteristics, along with a few surprising insights here or there. Not much about kodama though… "Out of curiosity, do _kodama_ need to sleep?"

"Not as such," the other replied. "We function somewhat differently from most animal-based _youkai_ , which retain the need, though our abilities vary slightly depending on the season and time of day."

"Oh?"

"We are linked to the land as much as to anything else," Zelkova explained, peering out the window at the lands of Scotland down below. "As such, we are more sensitive to changes in the environment than the others."

"…huh, interesting," Shinji noted. An odd thought occurred to him, sparking his curiosity. "What do you think of the others you've seen so far?"

"The Granger's cat is an interesting one. It can see that I am not truly a fox. Your companion's _kitsune_ is a young fox, but a servant of Inari, all the same. The other familiars I have seen are limited, without much power or a link with their Masters."

Shinji blinked.

"Erm, I meant what did you think of the people?" he clarified. He should have realized that even though Zelkova looked human, the other's thought process would not _be_ human. "And how can you speak English?"

"I can speak it because you can," the other explained, his form growing diffuse and vanishing into nothingness for a moment before reappearing. "As you benefit from my abilities, so do I benefit from yours."

"Interesting."

"As for the people, they are people and so, strange to me," the _kodama_ continued, with Shinji chuckling at this. He supposed it would be a strange thing. "Not the least of which are the echoes of spirits they carry."

"Echoes?" Shinji repeated. What were these… _echoes?_

"Hm, what is the word? You have two, while most have one…."

"…you mean wands?"

Matou Shinji drew both of his – the yin-aligned cherry and worm wand he had originally obtained from Hijiri, and the hazel and coral wand he had obtained…from another individual.

"Yes," Zelkova confirmed, looking at the lengths of wood oddly. "They feel almost like _youkai_ might _,_ if only as echoes. They…enhance and focus your spells?"

"…that's right."

"Humans _are_ an interesting lot," the familiar murmured contemplatively. "You create much, even if there is so much you forget in your short lives. Of the ones I have met, I suppose the fox's master is the most interesting, as she feels most like a youkai. Your…headmaster, feels like one as well."

"That's because he's part goblin – something like being part- _tengu_ ," Shinji explained.

"I see. And then there is your scarred friend, who cloaks himself in darkness yet wields a yang-aligned echo. In fact, all here have echoes of yang, save you."

"The British prefer to craft wands using yang-aligned cores," Shinji related, feeling happy that some of Hijiri's lessons were proving useful. "But then, they also seem to fear the darkness, given how quick they are to call things they dislike 'dark.'"

"Humans fear the darkness, and so scrape away at the edges of it with fire," Zelkova whispered, shaking his head. "Even if fire blinds and makes it harder to see what lies beyond its bit of light, making the unknown even more terrifying."

"…I hadn't thought of it that way before," Shinji said after a moment. "I suppose I'd better work at reducing what I don't know, eh?"

"That, would be wise. For now, Master, I will roam the castle in spirit form to familiarize myself with this place. You, however, should return outside."

"Oh?"

"I believe someone awaits you."

* * *

Wondering who it was, Shinji was delighted to see Robert Hillard waiting in the Common Room, as the oldest of the Stone Cutters was someone he hadn't seen in a while. Between the other's appointment as Prefect Watch-Captain last year, his internship with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and now, the older boy's appointment as Head Boy, he hadn't had the opportunity even though he'd wanted to.

"Ah, Matou, there you are!" Robert exclaimed, his arms open in welcome. "Professor Weasley wants to see both of us, so I went to come and fetch you."

Hermione, who had apparently just come down from the dorms and wanted to speak privately with her friend, paused as she saw the Head Boy chatting with Shinji. She wasn't about to interrupt the two of them, after all.

"Well, we might as well see what the Charms Professor wants," Shinji replied, shooting Hermione an apologetic look as he and Hillard left the common room and ventured out into the quiet corridors of the castle.

For a few minutes, they walked in silence, as if by mutual agreement, but once they were some distance away from the Tower, Robert spoke up.

"Quite the center of commotion again, are we, Matou?" the Head Boy asked with a chuckle. "All sorts of rumors flying about you."

Shinji only groaned.

"…what happened this time?" he wondered aloud, almost afraid to ask.

"You tell me," the older boy responded. "Based on the rumors, you're richer than the Malfoys, plan to buy Black's house and take his place on the Wizengamot, and are apparently seeing Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood, _and_ Hermione Granger at the same time. Of according to another rumor, you and Lovegood are now engaged, after having spent the summer together?"

Shinji only blinked.

"What." How had the rumor mill come to those conclusions, some of which were patently absurd? "I. No. How…?"

"Well, I suppose the last one is probably untrue," Hillard granted, waving his hand dismissively. "You are probably a bit young for that, after all."

"I mean, Luna was at _Mahoutokoro_ this summer, and she and I did go into the wilds of Japan to obtain familiars, but that's…" Shinji grumbled. "But not…" Ok well, yes, she had restored his prana, but not in _that_ way. "Anyway, that's not…what's this about a Wizengamot seat?" he asked warily. Surely the rumor mill hadn't exploded _already_. "And no, I'm not seeing all three of them. Or any of them, really."

"Huh. Is that so? I was sure…well, I'll take your word for it," Hillard remarked. "I'll trust that you know what you're doing."

"That's always the hope, isn't it?"

"Indeed. I'll have to have a word with Miss Chang," the Head Boy commented. "Spreading rumors like this could be quite hurtful."

"If you're going to talk with her, know that our Seeker apparently told the Head Girl about what happened in your _Kobayashi Maru,"_ Shinji replied dryly. "Something about an improper liaison with the Assistant Defense Professor."

"…is _that_ why Penny was being…? And why Percy was being such a…?" Robert shook his head and sighed, shaking his head. "I should have known it was something like that." He smiled ruefully. "What is it they say, 'there is no fury like a woman scorned?' Even if I wasn't actually courting Chang…"

"Are you trying to tell me something, Robert?" Shinji asked, deciding to be blunt.

"I don't know much about Parkinson, but Granger and Lovegood are both quite lonely people," Hillard replied, looking at his friend seriously. "Even if Lovegood doesn't show it as easily, she probably thinks the world of you for the small kindnesses you show her."

"…I know," Shinji murmured. That much he was certainly familiar with, especially having spent much of the summer with Luna in the wilds of Hokkaido. "She told me."

"Hmm. She clearly trusts you then," Robert observed. "Just…like I said, I hope you know what you're doing. People can be more fragile than you think."

"Or stronger."

"People can be both. In my years, I've seen that most people are brittle, Matou. In many ways, they can very strong, but come at them from the right angle and with a hard enough blow, and they shatter like glass. People are contradictions, weakness and strength, fear and hopes and dreams all bound up into one package."

"Huh. You…might have a point, there."

"Well, I'm Head Boy. I'd better know what I'm talking about, right," he joked, chuckling a bit. He shook his head though, after a moment. "You know, I always thought Percy would get this position. And I hope I was picked because I am the right man for the job, not just because I was a Stone Cutter and whatever else."

"For what it's worth, you have my vote," Shinji said seriously. "You were willing to fight that troll alone so the rest of us could go, even if it would have meant getting hurt." _Or killed._ "And afterward, you took responsibility and kept us out of trouble."

"Huh. You remember that, and not just the botched thing at the end of the year?"

"Of course I do," the Matou boy responded with utter seriousness. "You couldn't have known he'd ambush us."

"I…"

"You blame yourself about Sokaris too, huh?"

"Whoever and whatever she was," Hillard confirmed, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. "I've never had someone die on my watch before, because of a plan I didn't think through. And we nearly all did, that time." The Head Boy's expression grew hard as he looked into the distance. "That's why I worked so hard on mastering the Patronus, on becoming the best I could be. Because I don't want to fail anyone again."

"I'm not sure becoming an Auror is the profession if you don't ever want to fail," Shinji remarked. "Not when it will pit you against practitioners of the Dark Arts like…"

"I know," Hillard preempted. "But the Auror office is understaffed as it is, and if by becoming an Auror, I can give people hope, showing them that the fight against evil isn't futile, then I think that's victory." He grunted. "I always thought I'd have to work my way up, become a Hit Wizard first, then an Auror. But I guess sometimes things work out."

And that, he smiled.

"…like with you and Tonks?" Shinji quipped slyly.

"Tell you what, you stop teasing me about Tonks, I don't bring up Granger or Lovegood again," Hillard offered.

"And this business with Parkinson?"

"Look, I'm offering two for one as is. Take it or leave it, Matou."

"You drive a hard bargain. Guess I'll take it," Shinji replied.

"A wise decision."

It didn't take too much longer for them to reach the new Charms Classroom on the fifth floor, though both of them paused outside the door.

"So you're graduating."

"Assuming I pass my year end exams, yes," Hillard qualified. "Not that there's much of a chance I'll fail, but…you're wondering about the Stone Cutters."

"Well, yes."

"I guess that's something we have to work out this year, how all this continues to work outside of Hogwarts, pass on anything we want to pass on," Hillard noted. "And see if anyone should replace me at Hogwarts."

"There is that."

"Any good candidates in that Ourea of yours?" the _de facto_ head of the Stone Cutters inquired. "Or otherwise?"

"Well…" Shinji thought for a moment, but couldn't think of too many names. "I'm not sure. Luna would probably do well, though. She has something like healing magic."

"Does she indeed?" Hillard murmured. "You certainly choose the most interesting girls to spend time with. I guess I'll work with Lockhart on an admission challenge, then," Hillard commented. "Maybe something involving a troll and the _Book of Spells_."

"Oh?"

"Well, it's either that or wait for people to prove themselves against another Dark Wizard, and those are a bit thin in Britain."

"You know, I don't see that as a minus."

Both of them shared a laugh at that.

"Touché."

With that, Hillard knocked, with a muffled "Come in" issuing from the door.

Shrugging, the Head Boy opened the door, with both he and Shinji stepping through.

They noted with interest that this classroom was significantly larger than Professor Flitwick's classroom, with ample space devoted to a collection of apparently mundane objects, and a floor-length window, much like Lockhart's classroom – except that here, the central panes were hinged to open outwards, creating an opening large enough to drive a carriage though.

Among the collection of artifacts were what appeared to be a disassembled motor, a diagram of how to wire a plug, a biting kettle, and others – all either muggle items or items that had been charmed.

But the Professor was nowhere to be seen.

"Professor, are you there?" Hillard inquired from the door, wand in hand as he cast a silent _**Homenum revelio,**_ rewarded by a marker in the center of the room floating over a dais _ **.**_

"Huh. Guess you've seen me, huh?" Professor Weasley's voice echoed about the room. "Should have known better than to surprise Stone Cutters, given Fred and George."

There was somewhat mechanical _click_ , as a light blue Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe appeared from seemingly out of nothingness, touching down gently, with Arthur Weasley stepping out of it.

"What do you think?" the man asked, conspiratorially. "It's the pièce de résistance of my collection, of course – a car enchanted to fly."

Hillard frowned, recalling something he'd overheard while on his internship this summer.

"You used to work for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, right Professor?" the Head Boy inquired.

"That's right."

"Then, forgive me if I'm overstepping, Professor, but isn't it against the law to bewitch a Muggle item in this way?"

"…well, you see," Arthur Weasley qualified. "There's a loophole in that law, you see. As long as I'm not intending to do something like fly the car, or take it somewhere Muggles might see it, it's quite legal."

Hillard said nothing, just looking over at the hinges on the window panes.

"And no, of course I didn't fly it into the classroom," the Professor continued, nervously chuckling. "That…that would be silly after all, since I wrote the law, and know that would be illegal." He paused, seeing that both Matou and Hillard's faces were utterly impassive. "Um, besides, I'm sure we can come to an understanding…"

As if the last sentence had been a string of magic words, the Head Boy smiled and finally spoke.

"Of course, Professor Weasley," the _de facto_ head of the Stone Cutters noted. "Very impressive enchantment work, by the way, though I don't suggest you show off the car's flight capability to your prospective classes."

The Charms Professor retrieved a handkerchief, mopping his brow.

"Heh, yes, that…might be wise," the man conceded, his eyes flicking from one Stone Cutter to the other.

"In any case, what can we do for you, Professor?" Hillard inquired.

"Ah. Well…" the Professor began, fell silent. He took a deep breath, shaking his head before starting again. "I don't have to tell you two how beloved and respected Professor Flitwick was - is. You know that very well. You – and Harry Potter – and my sons – endorsed him for Headmaster."

Hillard waved for the man to continue.

"The headmaster taught me everything I knew about Charms, and I want to make sure I live up to his legacy."

"An honorable thing," the Head Boy agreed.

"You obviously know I was head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," the Weasley patriarch noted with a sheepish smile. "Not exactly the most well-paying or well-respected job there is, and unlike my old Professor, I'm not a champion duelist or some such. I enchant things."

"Things like flying cars, for example," Matou Shinji supplied, following Hillard's example.

"Yes, and frankly it's probably the most impressive piece of work I've done," the Professor acknowledged. "But to most people, enchanting isn't…"

"Impressive."

"Exactly!" Arthur Weasley exclaimed, shaking his head. "I want to do the position justice and make sure the students get the benefit of a good Hogwarts education. I just…I've never been a teacher before."

"I don't think Professor Lockhart had been either, but he seems to do fine," Hillard offered, with Professor Weasley grimacing.

"I'm not…Gilderoy is something special. He's a hero and an adventurer, and all of Britain knows it," Professor Weasley said glumly. "Me? I've never been in a fight in my life. I even sat out the fight against You-Know-Who."

"Most people did," the Head Boy said in answer. "Besides, the students don't expect a war hero. They expect a teacher, and you obviously care about doing things right by them."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Good, so how can we help?" Hillard asked, with the Weasley Patriarch seeming to sag in relief that he wasn't about to be turned in for his ill-thought out demonstration.

"Ok, well I read over some of the notes Professor Flitwick left behind, and in them, he described both of you as prodigies," the Professor elaborated. "You, well, youngest person to master the Patronus. And Matou's silent casting is remarkable, given his age. So, I guess what I'm asking is if you'd be willing to help look over my proposed curriculum and lesson plans."

"Something like 3rd years and below for Matou, and 7th years and below for myself?" Hillard asked.

"Yes, exactly that," Arthur replied, mopping his brow once more. "Basically, if I show you two what I plan on teaching everyone ahead of time, then you could offer me suggestions on how appropriate it is and how to best present it to your peers?"

"That sounds…reasonable," Hillard conceded. "Matou, what do you think?"

"So you'd be teaching us in advance then?" Shinji inquired.

"Yes. And I'm sure I could do something for you as well – teach advanced charms or something like that, if you need it. Or something else, since I know how busy you are," Professor Weasley suggested. "I can't teach dueling, but…"

"Extra review for my NEWTs probably wouldn't hurt," Hillard conceded. "And going over the lessons could help me with that, so that's fine. I'll hold off on my favor for now though."

"Advanced Charms would be fine for me," Shinji said gracefully.

"Good. Thank you. You have no idea how much it relieves me to have a good pair of hands helping me. And well, I didn't want to ask my sons. That would have been…"

"Professor, we're Stone Cutters," Hillard replied. "We're here to help."

* * *

As it turned out, Shinji's first class of the new term was History of Magic, where Professor Lockhart had invited a special guest to speak to the class about the history of werewolves and how they were treated in magical society – the Head of the Office of Improper Magic Use herself.

" _Hem hem,"_ the woman began, clearing her throat with a tiny cough, with Shinji in disbelief at what he was seeing before him. "Thank you for your kind words of welcome, Gilderoy. It _is_ quite lovely to be back at Hogwarts, in front of so many smiling faces."

Shinji was struck by a sudden wave of revulsion at the speaker's appearance and presence.

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish – completely at odds with her appearance: squat, with a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes, topped with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes, reminding Shinji of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

Her name – Dolores Umbridge – even sounded quite _wrong._

"Your Professor was quite kind to invite me here to speak about the recent anti-werewolf legislation I have drafted," the pink toad-like woman continued in her simpering tones. "After all, those filthy half breeds must be controlled. Those beasts are a menace to magical society, and so must be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law!"

Hermione Granger's hand shot upward at this, with Umbridge blinking at this.

"Yes, child?"

"What exactly does your legislation do?"

" _Hem Hem_ ," she coughed, clearing her throat once again. "I'm glad you asked."

Dolores Umbridge went on to detail how her anti-werewolf legislation would make it nearly impossible for those with lycanthropy to hold employment, as well as denying them access to most of the Ministry's services, as it would not do for Britain to support "monsters in its midst."

"We need to make it impossible for them to have families, to breed and create more of _their kind,"_ she explained. "It wouldn't do for proper witches and wizards to be overrun by those _beasts."_

"Just a question, Dolores, but wouldn't that drive a good number of them to rebel?" Gilderoy Lockhart questioned, his voice deceptively mild. "I seem to remember that in the War against Voldemort, many of those who joined him were those the Ministry disenfranchised."

"They should have been grateful for how much they had!" Umbridge replied indignantly. " _Hem hem."_ She smiled, a sickly sweet expression that most didn't find very convincing. "As a Professor of History, you should know very well how we wizards and witches have offered them representation and understanding, only for those filthy halfbreeds to spurn our offers. Those savages just want to make more of us into _them_. Why, look at how many hide what they are, knowing they're walking menaces to society."

"You speak of Newt Scamander's Werewolf Register and how some refuse to register?" Gilderoy inquired. "As well as how none signed the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct?"

"Yes. Disgraceful behavior which shows they cannot be trusted. Why, they are dangerous even in human form—"

"I believe the current research indicates otherwise, Dolores," the Professor interrupted, the expression on his face technically a smile, though Shinji thought it seemd a bit fixed. "Besides, they're not half-breeds."

"What else could they be, Professor?" the woman asked sweetly. "Are they, like merpeople, centaurs, and such, not all part-humans? And as such, beings who should be controlled for the good of wizardkind?"

"Like goblins, you mean?"

Umbridge's face hardened at the very mention of goblins.

"Bloodthirsty, savage creatures – we should get rid of them before they kill us in our sleep. With their great fortress in Diagon Alley, it is only a matter of time before they emerge and rebel, seeking to steal our magic."

"Dolores," Gilderoy responded patiently. "Are you aware that goblin rebellions are usually prompted by actions from the Ministry? Usually seizing their land, rights or such?"

"Now, Professor, you should be careful not to teach any lies," the cardigan-clad woman replied. "Everyone knows that they are beneath us. Even if one of their half-breeds tricked Hogwarts into making him its Headmaster."

There were more frowns at this, given that this was a class of Ravenclaws - and until his elevation to Headmaster, Filius Flitwick had been both their Head of House, and one of the most beloved teachers at the school.

"Hm, well, I'm sure we can get back to that," Gilderoy offered, seeming to want to change the subject. "As an unrelated question, Dolores, may I ask where you came up with your interesting ideas?"

"Why, from my late father, a distinguished member of the Wizengamot who fought beside Lyall Lupin for the extermination of the weres," Umbridge said with saccharine sweetness. "He was a brave man, but was heartbroken when the blood-traitor turned against his ideals, and we were left with this blight against wizardkind. The work I do is in his memory."

"And you are a pureblood, yes? Descended from the Selwyn family?"

" _Hem hem,"_ Umbridge coughed yet again. "You seem to know my history well, Professor. If only you knew your lessons as well."

She gave Lockhart a smile – one that froze on her face when Lockhart smiled in turn, his expression seeming entirely too casual for Shinji's comfort.

"But Dolores, I seem to recall speaking to your father - Orford Umbridge – just the other day."

"Hm? Oroford? I don't know such a man," the woman replied, her eyes hardening. "Even if you—"

"Funny," Lockhart interrupted, his smile broadening even more if it were possible, growing somehow _sharper._ "He says he knows you, and that you owe him quite a bit of money."

" _Hem_ , now now, Gilderoy, we mustn't tell lies now..."

But Gilderoy Lockhart was not to be dissuaded.

"You know, the money you pressured him into retiring early for, so you could hide the records that your father was merely a low-level worker in the _Department of Magical Maintenance_...and yourself a _half-blood."_

"I'm sure the man was quite confused," Umbridge replied with false sweetness. "My father is dead, after all. But again, Professor, you shouldn't repeat the lies others tell you. You never know when you might anger some rather important people."

The wizard seemed taken aback and paused for a moment, before turning to address the empty air beside him.

"Rita, do you think that constitutes a threat?" he asked mildly

"Indeed so, Gilderoy," the sharp – and utterly too familiar – voice of Rita Skeeter answered. "Why, I am shocked – just shocked – that the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office would descend to threatening a simple teacher at Hogwarts. And at these allegations that she lied about her background, to boot, given Lucius Malfoy's call for more oversight. You wouldn't make such an accusation without proof, I trust?"

"Naturally," the History of Magic Professor answered, withdrawing a vial from his robe - one in which a silvery-white fluid floated. "Exhibit A: The memory of my chat with Orford Umbridge, after all, in which he details his daughter's unfortunate tendencies to blame defects in personality or ability on blood." He pocketed it, and withdrew another. "Exhibit B: Her father's memories of her growing up with a muggle mother and a Squib brother, as well as the deal she made with him to retire in return for a stipend."

The entire class bore witness to Dolores Umbridge freezing in shock, as this time, Gilderoy withdrew a set of official parchments - familiar parchments.

"Exhibit C: Her O.W.L. results, obtained from my contacts at the Wizarding Examinations Authority, where it is shown that Dolores Umbridge received the mark of Troll in History of Magic. And Exhibit D: official Affidavits from her former colleagues, all of which were careful to mention her abuse of authority to punish those who did not agree with her."

By now, all traces of sweetness were gone, and the woman pulled out her wand, an ugly snarl on her face as she pointed it at the Professor.

"Lies. How dare you repeat such lies? Such slander?" she bit out, her grip trembling.

"Lies, Dolores?" Gilderoy asked mildly. With a step, he closed the gap between them, seizing hold of her wrist and forcing her wand up into the air as a sickly purple curse impacted on stone, with his hand gripping her wrist painfully tight.

"Unhand me! You…you can't assault a senior member of the Ministry! I am the head of the Improper Use of Magic Office!"

"Indeed, part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Speaking of which...I seem to remember Chief Warlock Malfoy speaking about better background checks, and how failure to disclose relations to suspect individuals or fabricating background was tantamount to treason?"

"You…I'll see you in Azkaban for this!"

"With Auror Moody, _my good friend,_ vouching for me, as well as a room full of witnesses, that's hardly likely, Dolores."

Which naturally, in Umbridge's mind meant that if there were no witnesses, there could be no proof...

" _Bomb_ —"

But Umbridge could not finish her spell, as with a strange _whirr_ , her wand hand was severed from its wrist, with the witch only able to stare in shock as she took a step back, looking at the crimson fluid spurting from the stump.

"And if you were hoping to silence me, it's too late. I've already submitted my evidence to the Ministry."

" _No…"_

Umbridge stepped back, cowering like a toad before a snake.

"Oh _yes_ ," Gilderoy said as he stepped forward, an oddly serene smile on his face. "This was a test. _And you failed._ "

" _No…"_

Umbridge backed away – or tried, but could not, for a wall was behind her.

"You…you monster..." she asked, a wild look in her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Oh, you know me, Dolores," the History Professor said beatifically. "Everyone does. My name is Gilderoy Lockhart."

And with a jet of red light, she knew no more.

* * *

A team of Aurors led by Alastor Moody came to take Dolores Umbridge into custody shortly thereafter, with the gruff old veteran commending the History Professor's quick reflexes.

"She endangered my students," the Professor replied. "As a teacher, I could do no less."

"The Minister will probably give you the Order of Merlin, First Class," Moody said gruffly. "And deny any of Umbridge's legislation, just to distance himself from this scandal."

"Of that I have no doubt."

* * *

Perhaps it was fitting that the headline of the next day's _Daily Prophet_ would read: _**Gilderoy Lockhart**_ _ **stops Ministry Official from Massacring Students! Says 'As a teacher, I could do no less.'**_

Fudge just stared at this headline, his mood growing fouler by the minute as he thought about how this was being read by households around the nation.

"How did she get away with this for so long?!" Fudge demanded of the leader of his bodyguard contingent - John Dawlish, a trained Auror. "Don't we have some kind of screening process for people going into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"…we don't actually use background checks for most positions, beside people applying to become Aurors," Dawlish replied with a frown. "Malfoy was right, actually, that the DMLE needs better internal oversight. After all, otherwise, who watches the watchmen?" The Auror shook his head. "As for this case, Minister, what seems to have happened was that none of Umbridge's critics dared to speak up, since whenever they asked, unpleasant things happened to them."

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, just grunted at this.

"Dawlish, did she...did she abuse the power of her office?" Fudge asked quietly.

"We're only beginning our investigation now, sir, so I don't have that information," the Auror replied, with the Minister shaking his head. "Unfortunately, given the most recent development in the case, we can't question her under Veritaserum."

"And why the bloody blazes not?!"

"She's dead, sir," Dawlish stated.

The Auror went on to explain that Umbridge had committed suicide while in custody, rather than face justice, something that only worsened Fudge's mood, as this meant he couldn't even give her a large show trial to demonstrate how disgusted the rest of the Ministry was with her actions. He never thought he'd have cause to emulate Baretmius Crouch Senior, but if there was ever a time...

"…Merlin. I…Fine. We'll give Lockhart a medal - the Order of Merlin, First Class - and whatever else he wants, since he's the hero of the hour. We have to make sure no one associates the Ministry with what happened at Hogwarts."

"Bit hard for that now, sir. Newspaper has already been delivered, and some of the details were in the evening edition last night."

The cry of anguish which erupted from the Minister's throat was a thing of legend of which his bodyguards agreed never to speak again.


	13. Tactics Time

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 13.** _Tactics Time_

Matou Shinji reeled back as a brilliant jet of red tore through the space his head had occupied just a split-second before, followed by a miniature whirlwind of Knockback Jinxes that nearly sent him sprawling.

 _Ambush._

He supposed he should have expected something of the sort, given the chaotic mess that Potions-Herbology was turning out to be, but he hadn't thought anyone would use this sort of tactic, given that he was used to dealing with his own class. If he hadn't instinctively dodged after seeing that the cache was empty…

' _Whoever is up in the trees would have gotten me.'_

Buying himself time, the Ravenclaw conjured up a cloud of acrid black smoke to fill the area, obscuring the sight of his unknown assailant, and buying him a few precious seconds in which to assess the situation.

A shout of _Verdimillious_ came from above, with an orb of glowing green energy hurtling down from above and _exploding_ in a blinding flash of emerald light that would have disoriented him had he not closed his eyes at the last possible moment.

Opening his eyes once the brilliance had passed, Shinji grit his teeth as green sparks played over his limbs, making his movements disjointed and jerky, though more importantly, the glow _marked his location for the enemy_. Still, he knew where the enemy was too, so all he had to do was be faster.

" _Verdimillious Tria!"_ he barked out, letting his anger fuel the powerful forks of jagged green lightning that arced from his wand towards his assailant – who _screamed_ in agony as the attack struck home.

But the Matou boy was in mood to show mercy, as he kept up the attack, pouring his desire to crush his enemy into his assault until the form of Vincent Crabbe convulsed once, twice, thrice – and then went limp, eyes rolling back into his head as his wand slipped from his nerveless fingers and fell to the forest floor with barely a sound.

…followed shortly thereafter by a muffled _thump_ as the Slytherin's rather large body hit the forest floor.

Muttering a silent curse, Shinji dispersed the smokescreen and went to check his foe's fallen form, rifling through the boy's pouches and pockets to see what his opponent had found. Sure enough, he found a number of jars of Lionfish Spines – the potions ingredient that had presumably been hidden in the now-empty cache.

Apparently, the other boy had stumbled upon the stash first, and had decided to claim the entirety of the contents for himself. Why Crabbe hadn't returned to his base camp at that point, Shinji didn't know, though he suspected that the other boy might have heard someone approaching and decided to incapacitate the competition.

' _Me, in other words. Because if he had planned the ambush, it would have been more clever to leave one of the jars behind. I wouldn't have suspected a thing then…'_

He heard a crunch of feet on leaves behind him and he whirled to see the figure of Pansy Parkinson standing behind him, her wand pointed at his chest.

"Taking out the competition, Matou?" the brunette asked warily, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as she noted the unconscious form of Vincent Crabbe on the ground, with a number of ingredient jars scattered around him. "Didn't expect that of a former Consul."

"Hello Parkinson," Shinji greeted genially, though he was careful not to make any sudden moves. He didn't want her to act and force him to use his _ofuda_ , after all. "And no, just acting in self-defense." He lifted the jars in his hand. "He ambushed me, you see."

"And took all of whatever ingredient was in this cache, evidently," Pansy remarked, noting all the ingredients. "Foolish setup for an ambush, if you ask me. You need bait."

"That's exactly what I thought," Shinji said agreeably. "Alas…"

"Alas indeed," Pansy quipped. "So what was in this one, anyway?"

"Lionfish Spines," Shinji said with a lopsided smile, casually tossing one of the jars over towards – but not quite at – Pansy, who caught it out of the air with her free hand, glancing at it for a moment to confirm the contents were what he said they were.

"Hm, that they are," she confirmed. "You're just giving these to me, when you could leave us all in the lurch like Crabbe tried to do?" the girl inquired coyly.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare do that to a pretty girl who has a wand pointed at me," Shinji replied glibly, with Pansy chuckling. "Besides, you're working with Harry, and I wouldn't do that to him."

"Such touching loyalty," she drawled, pocketing the item and – as he'd hoped – lowering her wand. "And what do you plan to do with the rest of those? Hide them? Take them back to your camp?"

"No. I'll put them back, I think," the Matou boy answered, the seed of a revenge plot coming to mind.

"What? All of them?" Pansy inquired. "Seems like a waste, since you could stop everyone else from finishing their potions."

"With everyone suspecting it was me?" he asked, lips twisting into a wry smile. "That's not worth it. Besides, it would set a bad example for next time."

"…you have a point there," the girl conceded reluctantly. "Still, you're not going to do anything?"

"Oh, I didn't say that," Shinji replied with a smirk. "I'll put them all back except one for myself, and one extra."

"Why one extra?"

"While Goyle might enter the labyrinth if Crabbe falls…"

"…there will be a delay, so if he's the last…"

"Exactly."

"How very…cunning of you," Pansy breathed, nodding appreciatively. "I assume you'll be sending up the red sparks to signal the teachers that Crabbe was incapacitated?"

"Might as well. Then best to scatter, since everyone else will see it too."

"Mind if I tag along? Just in case of another ambush, that is."

Shinji weighed his options. For now, he had nothing against her accompanying him, and two wands were better than one.

"Why not?"

* * *

After the debacle of the year's first History of Magic Class, where a corrupt Ministry Official had almost killed them all, Matou Shinji's mind had been working in overdrive, trying to figure out what happened. While the topic of the class had officially been the history of how werewolves were treated in Magical Britain, Shinji was fairly certain Professor Lockhart had intended to teach something far different: the lesson of how far those with power would go to retain it.

To the others in the class, the History Professor's questioning of Dolores Umbridge seemed routine enough, given that he would point out inconsistencies with their arguments or viewpoints in much the same way, but then, most of them did not have as much to hide. With the threat of the lies she'd told being exposed to the world, the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office had attempted to bring down the ceiling of the classroom and quite literally bury any witnesses to her humiliation – an event that had only been prevented by the decisive action of Gilderoy Lockhart.

' _Even I wouldn't have been fast enough from where I was sitting.'_

And if that spell had gone off…Matou Shinji thought he might have been able to protect himself using his ofuda, but he wouldn't have been able to save anyone else. He could dodge spells aimed at him or use darkness to shield himself from something larger in scope. He probably could even stop a cracking ceiling from crumbling, but stopping a large amount of debris that was already falling - _that_ would have been beyond him.

In the aftermath of the incident, Hermione and a number of the other Ravenclaws had been quite upset by what happened, as they thought there had to have been another way things could have ended. While none of them thought Umbridge had been a pleasant woman, none of them had expected her to threaten the Professor, nor had understood that she had intended to bring down the ceiling with _Bombarda Maxima._ And surely, they thought, there had been no need to _literally_ disarm the woman…

…but then, none of them knew that the "Rita" Lockhart had spoken to was one Rita Skeeter of the _Daily Prophet_ , or the implications of this. Given what he'd said to the corrupt official after disarming her, most of the students assumed this Rita had been someone at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and that Lockhart was doing his part in a Ministry investigation.

But Shinji knew better.

The only reason Skeeter would be there – or perhaps had been listening in on a two-way mirror – was if Lockhart had intended from the outset to destroy Dolores Umbridge, with the woman playing right into his hands.

And while the woman's insensate body had lain there afterwards, bound by conjured ropes, Lockhart had finished his lecture on how werewolves were much maligned, given the current evidence, and how the stigma of infection led many not to come forward. Corrupt officials like these drafted and passed laws without understanding the context of a situation or its likely consequences, abused the power of their office to advance hidden agendas that had nothing to do with the good of the people, and twisted the narrative of history to help them remain in power, taking credit for things they had not done and trying to avoid responsibility for the debacles they had.

"Do not absolve them of responsibility," Lockhart had said. "For the Ministry exists to serve the wizards of Britain, not to control them."

He'd dismissed them early, leaving Matou Shinji to reassure and comfort a shaken class of Third-Year Ravenclaws that things would be ok. Given that he'd faced a Dark Wizard and had masterminded the strategy that had let them beat Alastor Moody, his classmates were quite eager to hear what he thought of the situation.

Many of them wondered if they had really been in danger, and if so, why hadn't _he_ acted? Others wondered if Lockhart's actions had been necessary. And some wondered if there was anything they could they do to protect themselves, as things had happened so quickly.

And as they made their way to a staging area near the Forbidden Forest where the Potions-Herbology classes would be held, he'd answered them.

 _Yes_ , they had been in danger, though even _he_ hadn't realized it until after the fact. For Dolores Umbridge did not call herself a Dark Witch or a Dark Lady. She'd worn the mantle of legitimate authority, benefiting from all the trust and respect ascribed to her position.

 _Yes_ , Professor Lockhart's actions in disarming Umbridge had been necessary, if somewhat brutal. Given that she had been about to kill everyone in the room, mercy was not nearly as important as efficiency in eliminating the woman as a threat.

As for protecting themselves, Shinji had suggested that they form a Defense Association of sorts, in which they could practice what they learned in Defense against the Dark Arts. Given that a troll – and a Dark Wizard – had broken into Hogwarts during his first year, and Sirius Black had entered the castle during his second, _even with Alastor Moody and a number of Hit-Wizards around_ , it was clear to him that as students, they could not leave the responsibility for their protection in the hands of the teachers, as the authorities might not always be there.

After all, with each and every one of them possessing wands, it was unconscionable that they did not train themselves to respond to threats, to act, to protect themselves.

' _Even the weakest magus learns how to fight effectively, after all…'_

By and large, most practitioners of witchcraft did not bother, with most adult practitioners incapable of even casting a proper Shield Charm. Oh, they might know the theory, but when it came to actually practicing their spells, many put in as little effort as they could, not realizing that this knowledge could be the difference between life and death.

"Are you really sure something like this is necessary?" Terry Boot had asked, looking askance at Shinji. "I mean, how often—"

"If Lockhart hadn't acted so quickly today, we would all be dead." The harsh certainty in Matou Shinji's voice made the others flinch – and left no room for argument. "He might not be there the next time. If you find yourself facing a troll, or an Erkling, or a practitioner of the Dark Arts, do you want to stand a chance? Or do you want to trust that someone else will protect you if you can't protect yourself?"

As much as anything else, he wanted to be sure people wouldn't be able to blame the Stone Cutters if they failed to stop an incident, for he knew far better than anyone else how mortal he and the others were, and how even they had limits, especially when taken by surprise.

"…when you put it that way, you have a point," Su Li had conceded. "But who would run this Defense Association then? You? The Stone Cutters?"

"No," Shinji had replied, shaking his head. He had enough things to do this year, without being put in charge of something new – working on his arts, training with his familiar, teaching Hermione about eastern herblore, and more. "The Ourea."

The organization he headed, dedicated to the development of student leaders. Given all the scenarios Lockhart put them through, Shinji thought they would be well suited to lead – and train – others.

After all, there was only so much they could learn from simulations in the _Book of Spells_ , no matter how realistic they might be. To go further, they had to lead others.

"We will…?" Hermione had asked softly. Teaching people how to cast spells, fixing their pronunciation, or helping them with theory was one thing. That people would be counting on her to teach them how to protect themselves, when she'd failed her leadership challenge, her _Kobayashi Maru_? That was terrifying. "All of us?"

"Yes," Shinji had affirmed with a smile. "All of us. _Together_."

Shortly thereafter, they arrived at the staging area, where the third-year Slytherins were already waiting. There, Professors Snape and Sprout had greeted them, going over the expectations of the joint class and what it would entail.

"This will be the hardest, most challenging course you may ever take at Hogwarts, one that will quickly wash out any…dunderheads left in this school," the Potions Master had begun, his dark eyes glancing over every member in the audience. "Until now, I have been… _merciful_ , allowing you to brew potions from prepared ingredients in the safety and comfort of the dungeons, without any conditions except that you finish your potions within the time limit of a single class."

He'd smiled coldly.

"But the time for mercy is…over."

One could almost hear a collective gulp from the assembled students, who by now were quite worried as to what awaited them.

"In this new class, you will learn to harvest plant-based ingredients from the wild and prepare them for use in potions," Professor Sprout filled in helpfully. "Wolfsbane, Mandrakes, Mint, and more. Those ingredients which do not require a working knowledge of Herbology will be provided, after a fashion."

The Professor had gone on to explain that students would not be allowed to use their ingredient kits, but would be sent into a twisted labyrinth – a section of the Forbidden Forest – and broken into groups of three.

Each group would be assigned a "base camp" location, and each member would take on one of three roles: Scavengers, Brewer, or Defender.

 _Scavengers_ , the only role that could freely leave the team's "base camp", were tasked with collecting the potions ingredients hidden therein. These ingredients were sometimes free-growing, as with the case with plants, or else were hidden in sealed caches. As they would face danger from plants, animals, and each other, they were allowed full use of their wands.

 _Brewers_ , like the name implied, would remain at the base camp, where they were the only ones allowed to prepare ingredients or work on brewing the potion for the group. As such, they were not allowed to use their wands for any other purpose. The task of protecting them in case of attack fell to…

 _Defenders,_ who were also limited to the bounds of the base camp, and were tasked with defending the Brewer. In the event of an emergency, such as the incapacitation of the team's Scavenger or Brewer, they were allowed to make a one-time role shift to fill the vacancy.

There would be one grade given for the group as a whole, depending on quality of the potion and time required to complete their potion within a 3 hour period allotted for the class, with one additional caveat - a team with both Brewer and Defender, or both Defender and Scavenger, incapacitated, would receive a score of zero for that session.

For this first session, Professor Snape had assigned the Wiggenweld Potion, a fairly standard healing potion which had the ability to wake someone from enchanted sleep. As a first year potion, it would have fairly simple to make…in the classroom. Shinji had rather suspected things would be different with this setup, as it seemed almost designed to cause conflict among the students, and required each group to know their strengths well.

In the ten minutes allowed for team selection, Harry and Hermione had both approached him, asking him to join them – with neither exactly pleased with the sight of the other – and both stating that they were going to be Brewers.

' _No doubt because both want the position of Potions Champion and wish to show they can brew under fire…'_

Making a choice like this had not been a headache he needed, but in the end, he'd chosen Hermione. The girl's delighted reaction had been nice, and reassuring him that he'd made the right decision, as he was reasonably sure that, still shaken from the incident in History, she could use a shot of confidence, while Harry would at least have Daphne.

He'd half-expected Pansy to join him as well, given her actions on the train, but he'd seen the other girl approach Harry instead, making for an all-Slytherin team.

' _If Harry is the Brewer, then Daphne will be his Defender, since he trusts her the most. Which means…Pansy is going to be the Scavenger?'_

The same role he wished to take for himself, given that Hermione was going to brew and Su Li, another Ravenclaw, had volunteered to be the Defender. It only made sense, since of the group he _was_ the best at herblore and knew a fair bit about combat.

...the fact that Zelkova had been tasked with helping sniff out caches for him while in spirit form also didn't hurt. Such a thing had not been explicitly forbidden after all – and neither had use of his _ofuda,_ though he was rather more hesitant to use those.

* * *

And so the situation had developed to where it was now, with Matou Shinji making his way through the tangled underbrush of the Forbidden Forest alongside Pansy Parkinson, while doing his best to avoid the spikey spore-like balls shot by various plants.

' _Venomous Tentacula, like the plants mixed in with the Devil's Snare…'_

Pansy, on the other hand, didn't bother avoiding, just using a Shield Charm to ward off the spikey balls and send them bouncing away.

"You know the Shield Charm?" Shinji asked curiously, given that that was a somewhat more advanced spell.

"Well, it would be a shame to have access to the _Book of Spells_ and not take advantage of its lessons," the Slytherin girl replied with a smirk. "I mean, I'm sure you and the Stone Cutters took full advantage of it in your first year."

"True enough," Shinji admitted. His own specialty hadn't been defensive spells though, but the things he could do with _ofuda_ and working on silent casting, since Tomas had disdained the reliance of combat-trained practitioners on shields, which was why the Killing Curse was so feared.

"Not going to tell me what you all worked on?" Pansy teased, though frankly she didn't expect him to reveal his secrets. Not more than he intended to, that was. "Aside from the Head Boy mastering the Patronus, that is?"

"In a word, no."

 _Whirr!_

A volley of great yellow thorns flew at them like knives, as several Spiky Prickly Plants, feeling threatened by the approach of these humans, released their spikes towards the magic users, with Shinji casting a silent _Flipendo Tria_ to knock them all away, and Pansy following up with a volley of Severing charms to cut the plants apart.

"I normally wouldn't have anything bad to say about our Head of House," the Slytherin girl remarked as she glanced around for any more threats from the surrounding vegetation, "but this exercise is ridiculous. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was bitter about not being made Headmaster. Maybe he just wants to see Hogwarts have a champion for the Potions Competition, but…"

"I think it's more about trust," Shinji opined. Feeling a prickling in the small of his back, he jumped aside as a jet of blue light blazed through the area where he'd stood a moment ago, with Pansy whirling and striking their would-be assailant with a blood red _**Stupefy**_ between the eyes.

There was a scampering of feet as someone watching from the distance apparently bolted, but with a silent order of ' _Bind',_ a paper talisman shot out from his sleeve and sped through the underbrush towards the target, who quickly overtaken and subdued.

"Trust, Matou?" Pansy quipped, as she moved to see who she had laid low. Shinji narrowed his eyes at seeing the shaggy black hair of one Michael Corner, a third year Ravenclaw. "When your own House turns against its former Consul? Were you much of a tyrant, I wonder?"

"…I wouldn't say so," Shinji replied, frowning as he knelt and rifled through the other's pockets, finding a vial of Flobberworm mucus and passing it to Pansy. "You got him, so the spoils of battle are yours."

But the girl waved the vial away with a wan smile.

"Such a gentleman, Matou," the Slytherin girl joked. "But I already found some earlier, so you take it."

"Hm, thanks," Shinji said, pocketing the vial and sending up red sparks with his wand so the Professors could retrieve the fallen student. "All I'm missing now is Honeywater."

"Likewise."

"You didn't have any trouble finding the Wiggentree bark?" Shinji asked, curious. "Those trees aren't exactly commonplace."

"No, but our base camp has a Wiggentree right next to it," Pansy replied with a smirk. "Doesn't yours…?"

Shinji grunted.

"…now that you mention it, it does," he muttered. That _couldn't_ be a coincidence, since those who touched the trunk of those trees would be protected from attacks from magical creatures as long as they were doing so. _'So the camp placement wasn't random…meaning that in the future, I could have Zelkova scout out camp locations and maybe make a map…'_

At least, if Snape wasn't paranoid enough to shift camp locations around, or thought they would not need such protection during their second or third foray in the forest.

"Let's find the one who ran off," Shinji said, already moving to find the one he'd had to use an _ofuda_ to capture. He cut through the underbrush, following the trail of trampled vegetation the other had left, to find a witch fallen on the ground, perfectly still, a paper tag on the back of her head.

Shinji casually rolled her over to see who it was, raising an eyebrow as he saw the face of Sophie Roper, eyes open wide, and utterly unable to move.

"Stupefy," Pansy intoned lazily, a jet of red light issuing from her wand and impacting the stricken girl as Shinji surreptitiously dispelled the _ofuda,_ allowing the rigid Slytherin to slump into unconsciousness. "So you can strike from quite a distance, Matou."

Matou Shinji frowned, but nodded.

"My Master trained me well," was all he said on the matter.

"No doubt," Pansy replied, kneeling to search through Sophie's pockets and such, but finding nothing of note. "Especially since you dodged that attack without seeing it coming." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Tell me, Matou, is _Mahoutokoro_ better than Hogwarts in terms of what it offers?"

"Not necessarily better," Shinji answered with a sigh. "Just different." But he knew they were running out of time, so he asked his familiar if it could sense another cache near here. Or perhaps something like water.

' _Speaking of which…'_

He placed his fingers on the wand concealed up his sleeve, closed his eyes, and turned around in a circle, taking a step forward as he felt something like a pulse.

Opening his eyes, he saw Pansy looking at him oddly.

"What were you doing?" she asked suspiciously, no doubt thinking that Matou was practicing his strange arts again.

"Sensing water," Shinji said tersely.

' _Master, there is a cache in the direction you are pointing, containing multiple sorts of containers. They appear to be located in a cave of some sort.'_

"Are you a Seer or something?" Pansy inquired, looking at Shinji in an odd light. "Ever have dreams of things to come or far away? Ever see the future?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Shinji replied. He'd had those strange dreams during the summer, but he had no idea what they could mean, and besides, they'd faded away now… "This way."

"Well, I'll follow your lead."

* * *

They pressed on for almost a kilometer further before coming to a halt before a massive hole in the earth, with a tunnel sloping down into the earth, going who knew how deep. Clearly, this was the cave in question, within which the cache was hidden.

"…are you sure that what we're looking for is in there?" Pansy asked, looking around for some sign of treachery.

"Positive," Shinji confirmed, as a puff of silvery smoke left his sleeve. "There's water down there – and something else too. A cache – a big one."

"You'd better be right about this, Matou," the Slytherin girl grunted, but made no real protest. "So, tell me, did Lockhart really cut off the arm of the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office?"

"Well, her wand hand," Shinji replied casually, as both of Pansy's eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline.

"You don't sound surprised," she noted. "You've seen worse…haven't you?"

"Stone Cutter, remember?" Shinji reminded her.

"Ah, right. You want me to cast _Lumos,_ or…? _"_

"No, let me," Shinji answered, the tip of his wand lighting up silently as they descended into the tunnels. "I can defend myself without this wand."

"With your mysterious Eastern Arts."

"Among other things."

…like his second wand, of course.

As it turned out, the cave was quite infested with an assortment of creatures.

Fire Crabs, those large turtle-like creatures native to Fiji which shot flames from their rear ends when attacked to stop pursuers in their tracks. These, fortunately, were handled by Pansy, who took care of them with one _**Stupefy**_ apiece.

Streelers, giant snails native to Africa, which changed color hourly, and left behind a trail of venom so toxic and corrosive that it burned all organic matter that it touched. A room whose floor was slick with the substance in this case.

Pansy had also proceeded to stun these, but had puzzled over how to continue.

"Allow me," Shinji had said, dimming his wand and using it to levitate her into the air, causing a squawk of surprise. "Calm down, I know what I'm doing."

' _Zelkova, can you provide me with light?'_

The answer was affirmative, as an orb of illumination appeared on his shoulder, causing Pansy to raise an eyebrow at the apparently wandless feat - and raise it higher as he just _walked_ out onto a cavern floor slick with corrosive venom – without any effect, while pulling her floating form along behind him.

Soon enough, they reached the other side of the room, a tunnel that was thankfully clear of the snails or their venom, whereupon Shinji set Pansy down.

"…Ok, that was creative," Pansy allowed, but fell silent as she heard something come near – a buzzing of some kind. "Do you hear that?"

"Buzzing…?"

Shinji had a very bad feeling about this. The last time he'd heard buzzing like this, it had been in Quirrell's challenge, where…

' _Doxies…this cave must be infested with doxies. And even if I run, Pansy can't…'_

Which meant he had to stand his ground.

"Doxies," Shinji almost spat, looking over towards Pansy. "Ok, here's the plan. We're using _Verdimillious Tria._ Knockback won't be enough, and fire might work, but it makes the rest angry. We need to stop them here, and lightning is our best chance."

"Alright, Stone Cutter," Pansy replied with more confidence than she felt as the blue creatures came into sight, beetle-like wings beating the air as the rushed towards the duo, along with their coarse, black hair.

 _Doxies._

Normally considered mere pests of the wizarding world,the Biting Fairies, as they were sometimes called, could be quite an annoyance, as they liked light and sound and noise – and were unfortunately blessed with a double row of venomous teeth, which could make one quite ill.

And not just one Doxy.

This…was a swarm. A swarm of angry, biting things – and nowhere to run.

In the face of this, Shinji drew his second wand and reached inside himself, awakening the power he had trained so hard to master this summer – the power sleeping within his wand as he called forth his anger, his rage, his frustration and fear that these _things_ would dare try to stop him there.

"On three," he whispered, his voice faint against the buzzing. "One. Two… _three!_ "

Twin shouts of _**Verdimillious Tria**_ filled the air, and with a sharp bite of ozone, the darkness was torn apart by jagged strokes of lightning. Brilliant green lightning from Pansy's wand – and purple, almost black lightning lancing forth from Shinji's dual wands, ripping into and through the swarm of Doxies.

These three forked tongues did more than stun – they killed. They burned, they paralyzed, they tore the pests apart from within, tongues of electricity surging forth again and again as the swarm came at him – and failed, burned, still-twitching husks of once-living things falling to the ground with a sound like heavy rain.

Doxies poured forth like countless grains of rice into an insatiable void, ground up and destroyed by the channeled power.

Lightning flashed over and over and over again, against a backdrop of screams and pattering rain, until at last, all was silent.

Shinji fell to one knee, breathing hard once it was over, the smell of charred flesh redolent in his nostrils – as it should be, given the mass of blackened Doxy corpses that carpeted the tunnel. Hundreds perhaps. Or thousands. He didn't know, and couldn't be bothered counting.

He just knew that he'd killed them all.

"Matou…that lightning…" Pansy managed after a few minutes, once she stopped feeling dizzy. "That wasn't…and why do you have two wands?" She blinked, frowning. "Why can you use two wands?"

"Don't ask," Shinji replied, shaking his head as he sheathed his second wand – the length of hazel and coral. "It's a very long story."

"Then why show me?"

"I brought you here. I wasn't about to let you get hurt on my account," Shinji growled out. "Especially not when you watched my back up there."

"Tit-for-tat, huh?"

"Exactly. Equivalent exchange," the Matou boy said quietly, levering himself to his feet. "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Assuming there actually is a cache, sure," Pansy agreed.

Getting to their feet, they continued onwards towards a faint glow in the distance, eventually emerging into a vast chamber lit by seven burning trees. Or what looked like trees, at any rate, only they had no leaves, and were wreathed in fire.

In the distance, they could see a glimmer of light on water, and could hear the sound of a vast subterranean river – and a waterfall.

"Fire Seed Bushes?" Pansy asked. "I've seen these in the Greenhouses. But why are they here?"

"…maybe this used to be someone's garden?" Shinji joked.

There was more truth to the quip than he thought, for indeed, these caves had once been a part of Hagrid's garden during his time as Keeper of the Grounds, but in his absence had become overrun with creatures of all sorts. Then again, given the half-giant's penchant for strange creatures, it was hard to know if they had been there before or after he had stopped being able to take care of the place.

' _The cache is ahead, on an island in the river…'_

Indeed, as they walked into the chamber, looking around, they could see a faint golden glow from a small island in the middle of the river, but no way to reach it.

"Well, don't look at me, I'm not swimming," Pansy declared as she knelt down and touched the cold water, thinking about how inconvenient it would be to cross that. Unfortunately the freezing spell wasn't something she could do quite yet.

With a sigh, Shinji waved his hand and several ofuda – elemental ofuda, these – shot out, landing on the surface of the water and _freezing a portion several inches thick solid_. He crossed over to the island, retrieved two phials of Honeywater from the stash – which apparently contained everything one would need to make several varieties of potions – even the more advanced ones, and returned.

Once he crossed back onto solid land, he waved his hand, and the ice shattered, the frozen bridge collapsing into the river and washing away, to Pansy's astonishment. He could have used his wand, but this was quicker, honestly, since the ofuda had already been prepared and the prana stored beforehand, and he was tired after using so much of his reserves to kill all of the Doxies.

"Here. One for you, one for me," Shinji said, handing his companion one of the phials.

"This was…a bit much for a cache of potions ingredients," Pansy ground out. She sighed and shook her head, disbelieving that even someone like Professor Snape would have set up something like this cave. "But thank you. I wouldn't have been able to get down here without you."

Shinji suspected this cache had been meant for more advanced students, but did not voice his suspicions.

"Let's go. We have a ways to go before we back to our base camps."

Pansy chuckled.

"On the bright side, we might be the only ones to get Honeywater, and Malfoy probably won't finish his potion if he was relying on Crabbe and Goyle for ingredients. Not since you picked up an extra set of Lionfish spines."

"Well, there is that."

Suffice it to say that when they got back, their groups were quite happy to see them, with both Harry and Hermione managing to brew quite acceptable potions, a feat few others had matched, given one ingredient or another had been missing, as some had felt it wise to gather extras in case they messed up a batch.

"What took you so long?" Hermione had huffed, as an exhausted Shinji stumbled into camp with the ingredients.

"Sometimes I wonder, if people have no sense of decency. Without rules to make them nice, without someone's watchful eye, would they be decent people?"

"…well, you are," Hermione had replied.

"The exception that proves the rule," he'd grumbled. Hermione had wondered what he meant, but didn't press.

Not having been out in the mess of scavengers, she was surprised afterwards at how many scavengers had fallen to one another's treachery, and how many teams had failed to find ingredients within the time limit – either because they could not find the caches, or because others had emptied them out.

"How did you succeed where others failed?"

"Well, I did say I'd teach you a bit about Eastern Herblore, right, Hermione?" Shinji quipped. "I know a few things about finding things hidden in the woods. Good job on the potion, by the way."

She'd accepted his praise with a blush, and so he'd not mentioned that he'd paired off with Pansy and had his familiar sniff out caches he didn't bother mentioning, as he thought it might make her upset. Or that even he had worried when he heard that potions that had been brewed successfully would be later tested on Scavengers dosed with Draught of Living Peace to confirm their effects...

* * *

Fortunately, the rest of the days classes were far less eventful, with Shinji retiring to the Room of Requirement after dinner for a much needed rest, while he worked out what to ask Lockhart about the incident, and how to bring up his new initiative to the Ourea.

' _Maybe Diggory will want to run the defense group…'_

"Wrackspurts bothering you again?" a voice asked him, as Luna sat down beside him in the Room-cum-garden she so often liked, her fox regarding him curiously.

"A little bit," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. "Potions was something else, and after what happened in History?"

"It turned out alright, didn't it?"

"Thanks to Lockhart. Without him…"

"You should worry about what is, not what might have been. There are too many of those, and only one of you."

Shinji smiled weakly at that.

"Well, that's a point."

"Isn't it?"


	14. Games and Gambles

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 14.** _Games and Gambles_

In the morning before class the next day, Matou Shinji found himself back in the Room of Requirement, working out some of his uneasiness in a spar against Luna Lovegood. It wasn't his classes that unsettled him though – Charms, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes seemed manageable enough, given that he'd focused heavily on the first during the past few years, and the last was something he'd received some training from his Master in.

It was the fact that he intended to ask Professor Lockhart for training, a prospect that was more than a little daunting, especially given the ease with which the History Professor had destroyed a high-ranking official, and how easily the man saw through him, something that he found most disconcerting.

But then, in his quest for truth, Lockhart felt more like a powerful magus, or at least someone steeped in the darkness of the Moonlit World, than any other practitioner of witchcraft Matou Shinji knew in Britain. Everything the History Professor did seemed to serve a purpose, which he'd thought might simply be personal power at one point, though he wasn't sure if that was an end in itself, or a means to something else.

Given the man's obvious competence, Shinji was sure that he could benefit from what the history teacher had to teach, but the possible price of the bargain worried him.

Perhaps he'd become a little paranoid about the hidden costs of dealing with powerful individuals after his experiences over the last two summers, in which he'd traded what he'd first thought were just books – but ended up being so much more – for a mechanical owl and a new wand.

But this wasn't a stranger he was dealing with, not exactly. For he and the History Professor already had a pre-existing relationship. Lockhart, after all, was the biographer and publicist for the Stone Cutters, as well as the advisor to the Ourea, and Shinji doubted the man would wish to lose the benefits of that arrangement.

Even so, he worried…

" _Expelliarmus_!"

He leapt aside as a jet of red tore through the space he had occupied a moment before, only to find a blue orb of foxfire rushing towards him—

 _Fzzt!_

—but the fireball dissipated harmlessly on a bounded field that flashed into existence before him, leaving Shinji unscathed.

' _Thanks, Zelkova.'_

' _It is curious how humans choose to bond over conflict…'_ the _kodama_ observed, as its projected form of a black fox sat perched on Shinji's shoulder. _'Among other creatures, males may stage conflict with other males to display their prowess. But this sort of display…'_

' _Zelkova. Not now.'_

" _Flipendo Tria!_ "

Silently, Shinji cast his own version of the advanced Knockback Jinx to counter the whirlwind of force coming at him, though with Luna having infused her spells with yang prana, hers overpowered the first of his – though not the second, which successfully negated her whirlwind of Jinxes.

Fighting with a wand in each hand required a slightly different mindset, similar to that of using one incantation while casting a second spell – something which he'd become adept in due to his mental partitions. At present, he still had but a public and private partition, but that was enough to split his trains of thought, if he really focused.

' _Bind!'_

As a distraction, strips of paper flew from his sleeves, with the air lighting up in a tempest of sound and fury when Luna countered with her wand, as flash-bang _ofuda_ hidden in the mix exploded on contact with a wave of fire.

The din was deafening. The light blinding.

And so, taking advantage of his opponent's presumed disorientation, he sent more _ofuda_ forth, these striking the ground around her in an array not unlike a pentagram – only for these to be burned to a crisp by arcs of chained lighting.

Fighting Luna Lovegood – or any other practitioner – one on one was something he'd grown rather good at, and indeed, most of his tricks relied on distracting or deceiving a single opponent. Facing her _and_ a second opponent, who might not share her weaknesses, and whose skill set he was unsure of – was another thing entirely.

With a muttered " _Fumos_ ", Shinji conjured up a cloud of acrid black smoke to block her line of sight, only to whirl as he found lightning racing towards him – arcs of power that were blocked as the ground rose up to shield him, seemingly of its own volition.

' _How did she get…?'_

And then a shout of _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ interrupted his ponderings, as Matou Shinji found his pants being levitated with great force, with Luna's levitation charm lifting them – but not the rest of him, the irresistible force hoisting his legs into the air, so he quite literally fell head over heels – and was now facing the wrong way to aim his wand at her, no less.

 _Whirr-Boom! Whirr-Boom!_

A flurry of fireballs came towards him, only to be intercepted by a bounded fieldas Shinji hurriedly cast _Finite_ _Incantatem_ on his pants, with the end result being a Matou Shinji that ended up sprawled on the ground.

' _If she'd used the charm on me, not my clothing, my nullifying_ ofuda _would have worked fine…'_ he told himself. Only she hadn't, and so his defense had failed.

He flipped himself over just in time to witness the white and black foxes fighting with fire and barriers – and to see the face of Luna Lovegood hovering over his own, the point of her wand pressed against his throat.

"Do you yield?" the girl asked in her musical tones, to which Shinji could only sigh.

"…yes," he groaned, dropping his wands in a symbol of surrender. The very fact she was next to him, touching him, meant he'd lost, given that she could have cast any number of spells while he was otherwise distracted. All of his firepower was meaningless if he couldn't bring it to bear, after all… "You win, Luna."

Luna smiled at that, helping the boy from the east to his feet as the room transformed from an empty chamber of stone into a perfect copy of the Ourea clubroom, table, bathroom and all.

"You forgot about my fox," the mysterious girl commented wryly, with Shinji nodding somewhat sheepishly, as he had, at that.

"I'm used to fighting one opponent, not several," Shinji explained. And it was true, since in his encounters with Tomas, Kaiduka, Sajyou, the _Onikuma,_ and even the Troll, he'd only had to face one enemy at a time. Even so, being bested by someone who wasn't his Master, or one of his teachers still…hurt.

They were expected to be better than he. But Luna…was his peer, and he'd always stood head and shoulders over them.

"We'll just have to practice then," Luna replied, her calm voice taking some of the sting out of the defeat. "Together."

"Right," Shinji said. And in truth, it was better for him to realize these weaknesses now, in a spar against a close friend, rather than later, in a fight against an enemy who might actually be trying to kill him. "So, reading then, since you won today?"

That had been the terms they'd agreed on, after all. If she won, they would read together over a quiet breakfast in the Room of Requirement. If he won, she'd refill his prana for the day and help him sort through the Room of Hidden Things.

"Yes," Luna agreed, though she wrinkled her nose cutely as she pointed towards the bathroom door. "But we should clean up first."

"My dear Lovegood, are you trying to say I stink?" Shinji teased.

"No, but you will if we don't have a bath after our spar," Luna pointed out in a quite matter of fact fashion, noting the sweat on his face and form. "Even if I don't mind the way you smell."

Shinji found himself flushing at that, and wisely chose not to continue arguing.

"…you make a good point," he conceded, though he tilted his head as a thought came to him. "What about you?"

"Oh, I can wait till you finish," Luna answered playfully, stepping close as hands wreathed in amber light brushed away the aches he felt, and the scrapes on his skin. "Or make another room."

"…I guess you could, at that."

The Room of Requirement really was quite remarkable in how easily it reconfigured itself according to a person's needs, even if it couldn't conjure up opponents for him to face like the _Book of Spells._ But then, he didn't need one, not when Luna and her familiar were quite capable of fulfilling that role quite well.

And so the two headed off to cleanse themselves after their morning spar, before facing the rest of the day ahead.

* * *

After his morning duel, Shinji was thankful for the fact that Professor Weasley's first Charms class was mostly review, with the man assessing their abilities with the charms they'd learned in the past years, before demonstrating a few of the ones they'd be learning this year.

The Cheering Charm, for instance, which could induce a state of contentment – or if overdone – hysterical euphoria.

The Seize and Pull Charm ( _Carpe Retractum_ ), the conjured rope of light that Moody had used the previous year to draw students away from the Boggart, since the Summoning Charm did not work on most living beings. Unlike the Summoning Charm, however, this was a strictly line-of-sight based spell, and its effectiveness was dependent on the relative mass of the caster and the target.

The Freezing Spell _(Glacius)_ , which caused air in front of the wand to reach extremely cold temperatures, allowing one to freeze water, cool off objects, or cause ice to form on most surfaces.

The Engorgement and Shrinking Charms, which caused a target to either swell (up to a certain point, whereupon it would explode) or shrink.

And of course, how and when to effectively use the General Counter-Spell _Finite Incantatem_ , which the Professor had found invaluable in his previous occupation as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. He'd proceeded to show them some of the objects he'd collected during his tenure in that office, including Biting Kettles, Shrinking Keys, and Anti-Gravity Hats, as well as some of the other ways in which enchantments could be useful, as with the enchantments that made brooms fly.

At the end of the class, he made his Ford Anglia materialize from seemingly out of thin air, something which had stunned many people in the class, who hadn't realized it was even there to begin with.

"When most people think about charms, most people think about dueling, and certainly, a mastery of Charms is essential if you wish to be a duelist," Arthur Weasley explained to his startled students. "But more than any other field of magic, Charms is what underpins the foundations of our world. Without charms, our stoves and lights would not work. Without charms, our brooms would not fly and we would have no Floo. Without charms, none of us would have wands today."

With that, Professor Weasley dismissed them, leaving Shinji thoughtful about the role these spells had in the greater picture of Magical Britain.

Arithmancy, Matou Shinji's next class of the day, was one he found considerably more…peculiar.

On a conceptual level, he found it quite interesting. Delving into the magical properties of numbers and words so one could understand how some spells worked as they did and possibly create new spells was something he could certainly use if he wanted to further investigate the foundation of witchcraft.

He didn't even mind having to consult various number charts and performing calculations by hand if he had to, as he knew quite well that using devices like calculators effectively required a working knowledge of what the device was doing.

…no, it was the fact that their equivalent of a calculator wasn't a standardized method, but a series of spells that would automate some of these calculations, with an effectiveness based completely on one's understanding of what was being done.

Essentially, each student who stayed in the class would eventually have to create the equivalent of a calculator from scratch, with its logic entirely dependent on how well one understood the underlying algorithms.

Now, Shinji was no stranger to calculating the future – or the past – based on various factors. Indeed, the Alchemists of Atlas used a method based on Laplace's Demon to calculate the future, though their method was standardized, with its effectiveness varying not on the algorithms one used to compute the future, but the quantity and quality of the data being for computation, and what had to be approximated. Moreover, they did these calculations in their minds, without the use of outside spells – and if they needed something beyond that, could build a magical computer of a sort.

He could understand the need for a powerful computational engine for things beyond the ability of one individual to deal with, and for a standardized method of computation, but what was being asked of in Arithmancy was a bit extreme.

(If one considered magic spells as programs that would affect the universe, then Arithmancy was essentially the study of programming, with each aspiring Arithmancer and spellcrafter required to essentially create their own compilers from scratch _without fully understanding the rules of the programming language one was using._

And of course in this case, bad code wouldn't just fail to execute, it might very well kill you and those around you. Nor was talent any talisman against this, as Pandora Lovegood, who was known to be exceptionally talented, had died experimenting with a new charm.

It was for this reason that most practitioners of witchcraft used the common library of spells already known to them instead of creating anything new, as the risk of spell creation was not generally worth it. And since they could use other spells without risk, they did so willy-nilly, never acknowledging the price paid by those who came before so they could live comfortably.)

For magi, who courted death simply by using their magic circuits, acknowledging the price of thaumaturgy was part and parcel of what they did, and because their Craft came at such a risk, they took pains to pass down what they learned to future generations, with a magus' successor formally inheriting a Crest containing the compiled knowledge of those who had come before. Each generation built on what the last had done, adding more circuits – and knowledge – to the Crest, until it held a vast library of spells, methods, functions and so forth.

That was why there was only one heir, because for a magus, advancement of the knowledge one had spent one's life to obtain meant everything. To divide this knowledge, rendering it less than it could be, or passing it into the hands of someone less the capable, was anathema.

Matou Shinji understood that, as being passed over as heir had defined his life until he had received his Hogwarts letter. But this…this _society_ where such knowledge not only wasn't passed down but wasn't even valued was…

'… _horrifying.'_

Hermione didn't see it. The others, steeped in this culture as they were, didn't see it. For them, this was just the way things were. The way things had been. The way things would be.

There was no other alternative, and little possibility things would ever change.

And to him, _that_ was utterly terrifying.

* * *

The Study of Ancient Runes, on the other hand, was more comforting, as it was rather familiar to him. Too familiar in some ways, given that the material on the syllabus for this year was essentially the basic theory behind Runes and how to read them – most of which he'd already covered, thanks to his time with his Master, Aozaki Touko.

Not wanting to interrupt, he waited till after class, motioning for everyone to go on without him. Once they had gone, he went up to Professor Bathsheda Babbling and explained his current situation.

"So what you're telling me is that you have been apprenticed to a Professor of Ancient Runes at the _Mahoutokoro_ School of Magic, and have already covered the material for this class, _"_ Professor Babbling echoed, her brown eyes peering at the boy curiously.

"That's right." Shinji nodded. "I didn't say anything during class because I didn't want to be rude, but is there more advanced material I could be taking?"

The Professor made a considering _hmm_ sound as she pondered her options.

"I understand that this is probably frustrating to you," she replied. "However, in the past, my response has traditionally been no, given that those who approach me have generally only studied the topic on their own. Do you have documentation that you took lessons at _Mahoutokoro?"_

Shinji produced a letter from his Master, certifying that as her apprentice, he had completed the equivalent of a year of study in Ancient Runes – and was now rather glad he'd asked for it.

"Hmm, visiting Professor of Ancient Runes, eh?" Bathsheda Babbling commented, nodding slowly. "Yes, well, this seems in order. However, I am not sure if the course over at _Mahoutokoro_ is equivalent to that at this school." She paused for a moment, a considering sound in her throat again. "I don't suppose you have a syllabus in English, do you?"

"…unfortunately not."

"Hm, I didn't think so," the Professor sighed. "I presume you covered the Elder Futhark, at the least?"

"Both the theory behind it – how to read it, and the meanings of it, basic arrays – basic applications," Shinji confirmed, as Babbling's eyes widened slightly.

"Applications, you say?" the woman asked, her voice curious now. "I don't suppose you could demonstrate?"

"I suppose," Shinji said, taking the syllabus and placing it on the floor. With the tip of his wand, he traced the _Ansuz_ rune in the air, filling it with prana, as flames spread over the syllabus and burned it to ash. "I can do a few other minor things as well."

"Well, well. That certainly isn't taught in the first year of this class – this is next year's material. Given the circumstances, you wouldn't mind taking last year's final exam, would you?" the Ancient Runes professor inquired. "I need to see exactly what you learned before I can make a judgement."

And so Shinji sat what would have been the Ancient Runes year end exam, finding that some parts of it were as he expected – and that some parts of it he had no idea about, and had to guess. Some runes were obviously _not_ of the Elder or Younger Futhark. Perhaps they were Celtic in nature? He honestly didn't know, but took his best stab at it.

After he had finished it as best he could, Professor Babbling took the parchment from him and graded it on the spot, making a number of curious noises as she marked the parchment in red.

"Your knowledge of the Elder Futhark, the foundation of the Runes we study, is indeed solid," the Ancient Runes Professor remarked. "However, there are areas you seem to have overlooked entirely, such as the pictographs we use in place of numbers, and some of the other systems mostly used here in Britain. I take it you did not cover them in your training?"

"No, ma'am," Shinji replied.

"I didn't think so."

Professor Babbling was silent for a moment, which made Shinji rather nervous.

"How did I do?" he inquired.

"Well, based on your score – which falls on the border between Acceptable and Exceeds Expectations, you would pass this year," she answered, shaking her head. "And I am impressed by your ability to apply the runes to practical uses, which is more advanced material. Based on your score, I have no reason not to advance you to the next class. However, what you're missing concerns me."

"Ah."

"Since you came to me, I'll give you a choice: I can advance you to the next year of Ancient Runes now, and address that in your schedule, or you can remain with your year for the fall term to catch up on the basics, and I will move you up in the Spring," Babbling offered, peering down at the boy. "I don't suppose you would be happy simply staying with your year?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Hmm, I didn't think so…in that case, I suppose you want me to move you up to the next class, schedule permitting?"

"…only if it's not too much trouble," Shinji murmured.

"It's always trouble, but it's worth it when it comes to helping a student," she commented. "What is your other elective?"

"Arithmancy, Ma'am."

"I suppose you _would_ be one to study that art," Professor Babbling harrumphed. "Very well, I will talk with your head of house, and make the appropriate arrangements."

"Thank you, Professor."

And Shinji meant it, as he relished the idea of learning something useful and not wasting his time here at Hogwarts.

But she just waved off his gratitude.

"Bah, don't thank me. Just study hard and don't make me regret the paperwork I have to fill out."

* * *

Following the Arithmancy revelation and the trying work of taking the End of the Year exam for Ancient Runes, Shinji made his way over to the hallway outside the History Professor's office, somewhat anxious about what to expect.

"Come in. I've been expecting you," Lockhart's voice called just before he knocked – which made him wonder if the man had a charm on the door to notice if someone was approaching.

Not that he knew how to detect that, in all honesty, but it was something he'd have to look into.

As he entered, he noticed that the room was mostly the same as it had been the year before, save for some markings on the map of Magical Europe mounted on the wall. Notes, perhaps. Numbers. All around the Balkans, and Germany…

Curiously, though the _Book of Spells_ sat on the desk, as well as a stack of parchment, Lockhart didn't seem to have been writing, as the man had his eyes closed, and his fingers steepled.

"Matou, what can I do for you?" he asked after a moment, opening his eyes.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did in class, Professor," Shinji said, getting to the point. "You saved our lives – even if that wasn't your purpose."

"Oh?" Lockhart inquired, a dangerous smile flitting at the corners of his lips. "And what was my purpose then?"

"I think we both know that, sir."

"Perhaps," the History Professor voiced eloquently. "Did your grandfather enjoy the play, by the way?"

"He did. Thank you, Professor."

"I see," Lockhart replied. "It is good that someone appreciates the old epics. Something like _Makar Zolgen_ is not often spoken of outside Russia, after all, nor are most curious about it. Your grandfather can use magic, I suppose."

"…yes," Shinji said slowly. Not "Magic" per se, but magecraft certainly. Matou Zouken was an Archmagus, after all. This was a gamble but… "He gave me this book for you to look at actually."

From his mokeskin pouch, he withdrew the Russian tome that Zouken had sent him, with Lockhart raising an eyebrow as he waved his wand over the book, and a second book appeared.

"Gemino charm. Copies the contents without any of the magic that might be inside it. Useful thing for an adventurer," the man explained when Shinji raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, let's see."

The man opened the cover of the copy, poring through the first few pages, and all but froze as he read the contents.

"Did your grandfather say anything to you about what is in this tome?" Lockhart asked quietly, looking at Shinji with an intensity that was almost terrifying.

"Only that it allegedly concerned the Templar Order," Shinji replied truthfully.

"And what do you know of the Templars?" the History Professor inquired in the same tone of voice.

While revealing what he knew might be dangerous, he imagined it would be even more dangerous to lie to the man, given that Lockhart had an uncanny way of seeing through him.

"…that they are a small but powerful faction that specialized in hunting what they called heretics?" Shinji asked.

"…and?"

"…that they were opposed by several organizations. Organizations such as the Illuminati."

"…and?"

"…the Order of Assassins," Shinji concluded. He swallowed as he looked at Lockhart in realization, unable to keep himself from continuing. "The ones led by the one they called Hassan-i-Sabbah, the…"

"…Old Man of the Mountain, yes," Lockhart said mildly. "I thought it a curious title." Though Shinji suspected there was far more to it than that. "And I do have to say, you know more about the world than your peers, don't you? Especially when that old book is a journal."

"A journal?"

"A chronicle of observations on the Templars. By one Makar Zolgen, no less," the man continued, quirking an eyebrow. "Your grandfather must have gone through some trouble to get his hands on this."

"…I suppose," Shinji allowed. "I don't know much about grandfather's past. He doesn't talk about it very much."

"I imagine he wouldn't." Lockhart let the comment hang in the air for a long moment, before he shook his head. "But that is neither here nor there, is it? You and I both know you are here for more than to thank me. So what is it you desire?"

"I wish to learn," Shinji replied.

"A statement any teacher would appreciate, but learn what, I wonder?"

"As you are the most skilled adventurer in Magical Britain, I was hoping you would be able to tell me what I could best benefit from," the boy from the east said quietly.

Lockhart chuckled as he got to his feet.

"Well, _that_ is easy enough," he related. "The art of movement is something you and the other Stone Cutters could bear to learn. How to move quickly, but quietly, to be unseen unless one wishes, so one can blend into a crowd or seem to be the only one in a room. How to bypass obstacles, like walls and barriers. Knowing how to move is a virtue few possess in the wizarding world. Certainly, most of your professors lack it, except for Professor Flitwick, a duelist, or Professor Snape, who was once a spy."

"Or yourself, an adventurer," Shinji supplied, remembering how quickly he had moved to stop Umbridge, and how ruthlessly he had crushed her.

"Indeed," Lockhart confirmed. "Most believe power is something of spells and curses or laws. And there is that, but more than magic, there is power in appearances. In knowledge. There are three things I find invaluable: awareness of my surroundings, preventing possible threats from knowing what I am capable of, and having the speed to capitalize on my advantages."

"You would be willing to teach me this?" Shinji asked.

"I would, though there will be a favor to collect later. Is this acceptable?"

Matou Shinji had been afraid that would be the answer, but he supposed he didn't have a choice.

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Lockhart replied with a smile, as the air of danger seemed to fade. "One evening a week then, we will train you in this technique, using the _Book of Spells_. Was there anything else?"

"Yes, sir. In the aftermath of what happened in History, when Umbridge tried to kill us all for no reason—" And here he barely managed to keep a straight face. "I thought it would be useful for the Ourea to create a defense organization, since you won't always be there to protect us."

"A wise idea. I assume you wish to appoint Mister Diggory as its head, given his training and his age?"

"No, actually," Shinji noted. "I was thinking Susan Bones, given her relation to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with Pansy Parkinson as her second."

"While I do not presume to question your judgement, you do realize that Prefect Diggory is likely to be unhappy with this arrangement?" Lockhart inquired, but shook his head. "But that is your business, and you may bring up the proposal to the Ourea as whole this Sunday."

"Very well, sir." Shinji realized he'd forgotten one very important thing. "Just one thing – what is the password this year? 'Lily of the Valley' doesn't work anymore."

"I was intending to have the password sent out to you all soon, but since you ask, the password is ' _Alamut_ '."


	15. Shadow and Flame

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 15.** _Shadow and Flame_

Below him, the world burned.

Flames swept across the ground as fast as a man could run, surging up trees, across underbrush and forest litter, tongues of hungry heat and light visible even through the great cloud of smoke from below sending violent gusts of wind into the air that nearly sent his broomstick out of control.

"What in…"

"Yeah, I really don't envy you, Matou," Cedric Diggory – Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, whose broom this was, grunted, his voice distorted by what looked like an upside-down fishbowl over his head. "I admit, I was a little upset about not getting into NEWT Potions, but with how Snape has gone spare this year…"

Shinji looked down into the sea of fire, or at least, what he could see of it, and swallowed. He'd never imagined fire could be so… _noisy_ , a cacophony of consumption, punctuated here and there by the whump-crack of trees exploding from the heat.

"How much further?" he asked, casting a Bubble-Head Charm of his own to ensure he'd have a supply of clean air – at least for a while.

"Almost there, at least if the map is right." Cedric glanced behind him to confirm the two Quidditch players tasked with carrying the rest of Shinji's team were following. None of them were particularly happy about it, given the updrafts and the marked lack of visibility – and the impeded mobility that came with having to carry another person on their brooms. "Hope you remember _Spongify."_

And then the broomstick came to a halt, as a giant down arrow of made of green light loomed out of the smoke.

(In concept, it was very much like the Dark Mark, which Severus Snape had once learned to cast, but with some suitable alterations for his own purposes).

"We're here," Cedric intoned, having to raise his voice to be heard above the din as the others pulled up beside him. "With the fire and heat, it's not safe for us to take the brooms down any further. You'll have to jump."

Hermione, sitting on another broom, blinked as she looked down – they had to be at least 20 meters off the ground.

"Is it…safe?" Su Li shouted – almost squeaked. Being the Defender during the last live-fire exercise had been one thing, even if she – like most Ravenclaws – preferred a good knowledge of theory to practical tests, but this…

…what kind of twisted mind came up with these scenarios?

"Safe enough," Cedric said grimly. "You should be jumping into an area protected by _Protego Totalum_ , after which you'll have to make your way through the forest to one of the base camps."

"But how will we know where they are if we don't have a map?"

"The camps are towards the outside of the forest. If you can't find them though, you can signal for extraction – but that will mean failing this session. Ready?"

"Does it matter?" Shinji shot back, whereupon Cedric smiled thinly.

"No, I suppose it doesn't. Matou, as team leader you jump first, followed by Granger and Li a minute later."

Shinji nodded with a grunt, and with flames all around and only a green arrow to mark the proper path, Matou Shinji drew his wand and took a leap of faith.

" _Ventus_!" he cried, conjuring a whirlwind to clear away enough of the smoke before him, so he could see just where the ground was. " _Spongify!_ "

A bolt of pink light slammed into the ground, causing the area below to glow purple for a moment before fading, as Shinji forced himself to relax, hitting the ground feet-first – and bouncing as if he'd hit a trampoline.

He bounced once-twice-thrice, arms going up to protect his head as the momentum of the fall gradually bled off and he rolled to his feet, moving away from the impact area as first Hermione, then Su Li fell from the sky, bouncing a few times before coming to a halt, with no injuries except to their pride and dignity.

It was a good thing that the Softening Charm – which true to name, softened a target area or object, making it rubbery and bouncy, was a first year spell, but charming an area this big used a fair bit of prana.

'… _fire…'_

That was the first thing the astralized _kodama_ had muttered since they began the exercise, which Shinji had attributed to distraction, though he was not so sure.

' _Zelkova…are you ok?'_

' _No,'_ came over the mental link. _'The sound of flames. The scent of death. The heat. Our kind fears fire more than anything else.'_

' _You're not in danger.'_ Shinji tried to reassure his familiar _._ ' _Your physical form is in the Castle, not here.'_

' _With all due respect, Master, knowing that in my mind is one thing,'_ Zelkova replied tersely. ' _Understanding that is something else entirely. I can function, if that's what you need.'_

' _Sorry. I probably will.'_

"Hermione, Su, are you both alright?" Shinji asked, reaching out to help one – then the other – to their feet, his lips curving downwards as he looked at their unprotected bare faces.

"I'm fine, Matou, thank you," Su answered, holding onto the boy's hand for a moment more than absolutely necessary as she steadied herself. "Just a little shaken. This kind of thing…it's my first time…"

In truth, Shinji sympathized. If the fire had seemed bad from the vantage point of broomsticks, when they still had the option of backing out, it was worse here, on the forest floor. True, the fire had been intentionally set as part of a controlled burn, and where they were right now they were safe, but outside the protection of the barriers that had been erected, there was only smoke and fire.

He hoped – really hoped – that there were no low-hanging branches, so the fire would spread into the forest crown, or this could get really, really bad.

'… _I'm sure Professor Snape would take better care of us than that…'_

Though after the debacle of first year, and how Professor Dumbledore had kept a Cerberus in the school, as well as all those other defenses, he was not sure. But that wasn't his concern – his mind was focused on the practicalities of the present, given that it was impossible to see too far, it was hot, and the noise was _indescribable._ Like a living thing, the inferno _roared._

"Hermione?" Shinji called out, noting that his friend's breathing was becoming faster and shallower as she stared into the fire. "Hermione!"

"Oh. Huh, yes, Shinji?" the girl mumbled, seemingly distracted and overwhelmed. Her eyes gradually focused on him, and recognition came to them. "What…what's going…"

"The Bubble-Head Charm," Shinji interjected. "Do you know how to cast it?"

It took a moment before his words filtered through the girl's rising panic, and she nodded weakly.

"Cast it then!" he ordered, and shakily, the girl complied, a protective bubble forming around her head as she calmed down, her breathing slowing.

"Shinji. How…how are we going to…?"

"We're going to make it, Hermione," Shinji said with more confidence than he felt. "I'm sure Professor Snape wouldn't throw us into anything we can't handle…right?"

"…right," Hermione agreed, her voice still weak as she clutched his hand tightly as if holding on for dear life. "You're right, Shinji…"

' _Do you really believe that, Master?'_ Zelkova's voice questioned.

'… _well, no, but I think it's kinder to lie in this situation,'_ Shinji explained. _'Besides, if she doesn't calm down, we won't be able to proceed at all.'_

' _The more I see, the stranger humans seem to me.'_

' _We're strange enough to each other as is.'_

"Su, do you know how to cast a Bubble-Head Charm?" Shinji asked, taking a step back to reassess the situation. As a more advanced spell, normally learned in fourth or fifth year, he couldn't really expect anyone outside the Ourea to know it, after all, and he didn't want anyone on his team to succumb to smoke inhalation – or to need to resort to using wet rags over their noses and mouths.

As predicted, the girl shook her head, whereupon Shinji let go of her hand and cast the spell on her.

"Better?"

Su Li nodded.

"Ok, then we need to exit the protection of the shields and find a base camp," he stated, reminding them all of their mission parameters. "Remember, all of us can scavenge along the way and have free use of our wands until we get to one."

"How are we going to find one?" Hermione asked, looking once again at the world around them, and the flaming chaos they'd been dropped into.

"Look at me, Hermione," Shinji told her, with the girl doing as he asked. "I went through a forest this summer. I know how to find things."

And given that base camps were marked by Wiggentrees for protection, he had a marker to look for.

' _Zelkova, can you sense any caches or Wiggentrees in the distance?'_

There was pulse of something like a nod, along with an indication of direction.

"Ok…I trust you, Shinji," Hermione said, fighting to keep her fear under control. "I trust you."

"Good. I'm going to take point. Su, if you could guard the rear?"

The Chinese girl nodded, brandishing her wand.

"Hermione, stay between us – you're the brewer, after all, and we'll need you to make the Fire Protection Potion when we get to camp. Without it, we have no way to escape this area – not without giving up."

And that was something Matou Shinji was not willing to do, not when the task before them was – on paper – quite simple: Enter the Forest, reach a base camp, collect the ingredients to brew the Fire Protection Potion – and while under its effect, leave the forest on foot before the time limit.

The bushy-haired brunette nodded, her hand almost white as it clenched on her wand.

"You're going to have to let go of my hand, Hermione," he admonished, his face leaning close to hers. "I'll need both my hands free in just in case. Need to keep you safe, after all."

"O-of course," Hermione squeaked, doing so.

"Ok, then let's go," Shinji ordered, as leading by example, he stepped out of the safe zone, with the others following him into what seemed like the depths of hell itself. "Until we get to base camp, we need to stay in sight of each other at all times. Understood?"

"As you say, Matou."

* * *

As it turned out, once they were out of the safety of the landing zone, braving the smoke and heat, the group found some paths left relatively clear of flaming debris. Relatively compared to the inferno around them, but with the help of their wands, they managed to do what they could.

In truth, Shinji felt quite frustrated, given that his usual force multiplier – _ofuda –_ weren't actually that useful in the middle of a flaming wood. Yes, he could still use explosive ofuda, or manage to raise protective bulwarks of earth around paths, but at their core, his paper talismans were quite flammable.

He didn't yet know the Flame-Freezing Charm, after all, something he resolved to fix after this, and more to the point, didn't know how _ofuda_ that had already been filled to the brim with prana and intent would interact with another spell layered on top of it.

' _Guess I'll have to test that.'_

For now though, he used water to douse a burning branch that had fallen across the road, with a silent gouging spell to clear the debris from the path.

Behind him, he heard the crack of a spell being fired, and turned to see Su Li had dropped to the ground and was exchanging spells with someone, while Hermione remained standing and was stiff as a board.

He was about to reprimand her for freezing up, when he noticed that she wasn't just stuff, but unnaturally frozen, with her legs locked together in one of the classic signs of a Total-Body Bind.

Casting _'Finite Incantatem'_ on Hermione, he dropped to the ground and pulled her down on top of him, to get her out of the line of fire, with the girl's body tensing, her expression a mask of utter shock and embarrassment as she fell against him.

She almost jumped to her feet, as if his very touch burned like the fire around them, but Shinji kept a tight hold on her arm, keeping her from doing so.

"Stay down. It's an ambush," he whispered harshly, hastily restoring the Bubble-Head Charm that he'd accidentally dispelled.

"Ah…" Hermione said eloquently, her body relaxing against his. "What do we do?"

Shinji smiled thinly.

"Well, we fight, of course. Though if you could get off, that would good. I need to use my wand, after all. I need you to lay down some stunning spells for suppressive fire, if you can."

"R-right!" Hermione squeaked, shifting herself off the boy as she recovered from her shock and pointed her wand into the smoke in the distance.

' _Zelkova, how many of them are there?'_

'… _three attackers. All male.'_

' _None of them have the Bubble-Head Charm active, do they?'_ Shinji inquired, suspecting that his ambushers had begun to panic from the effects of smoke inhalation. With that in mind, he knew he needed to get them out of the forest quickly for their own good – and his, since if they kept lashing out, it wouldn't help. He needed to stop them – and quickly.

But he couldn't….

' _Wait…I can.'_

Frowning, he extracted a few explosive _ofuda_ from his robes, compressed them into a small orb about the size of a marble and primed them.

' _Deliver this to them, Zelkova, and then return.'_

' _As you wish…'_

* * *

In the air above, the Quidditch players waiting for their underclassmen to signal for extraction were stunned when a massive explosion of pure white light ripped through the forest and into the sky, a wave of concussive force blowing away the smoke from the area to reveal a newly formed clearing where fire had been snuffed out.

"…was that… _Confringo?"_ one of them asked, swallowing as he looked over at what he imagined was a scene of devastation. "What kind of _third year_ knows…?"

But his voice trailed off, as there were two third year students he could think of who might know such a spell.

"…well, it's not Slytherin out there, so _that_ was probably Matou," Cedric replied, shaking his head. "We should probably see what happened, and if anyone needs to be evacuated."

And there were indeed three unconscious individuals who needed extraction: Zachariah Smith, Ernie Macmillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchy, all of which had been knocked unconscious by the force of the explosion – but who hadn't been too badly injured.

"It's strange, Captain. It's like whoever knocked them out cast from point-blank range and knew exactly where they were."

"…in _this_ smoke?" Cedric blinked, surprised. "Well, I suppose I should be the last one to underestimate a Stone Cutter…"

* * *

As they proceeded along after the attempted ambush, Hermione stared at the back of Matou Shinji's head, wondering what had happened when the wave of force washed over them – or rather, wondering how Matou was able to just turn his back on his opponents without checking to see if they were ok? She knew that at Shinji's bidding, Peeves had caused an explosion of light and sound in Moody's classroom last year, but if he had caused it without Peeves, didn't that mean it hadn't really been one of Peeves' abilities – but one of his own.

But…how was that possible? He hadn't said a word, and she hadn't seen him use his paper talismans at all.

There were so many rumors about what Matou knew – ones she was having to re-evaluate since she found out he'd been allowed to move onto the second level of Ancient Runes after the very first day. It was obvious to her that he had strange and potent abilities, and as she followed him, noting how confident he seemed, how even this firestorm left him unruffled, she wished she was like him – that she had that kind of confidence.

That she _was_ a leader, as he believed her to be – and she didn't.

Sometimes she felt like a fraud. Like she didn't deserve the successes she'd obtained, and wasn't as smart as people thought she was. She worked hard, very hard, learning advanced charms, excelling in transfiguration, and more, but what good was her knowledge when she couldn't use it?

Had Matou honed his skills in situations like _this_? Encounters full of uncertainty, where disaster was only a hairbreadth away? Was that how he'd become so strong?

' _Hm?'_

A flash of color caught her attention, as she turned see something on the side of the road – a large cluster of mushrooms with white stalks and red and white spotted caps.

' _Bursting Mushrooms.'_

These, like Salamander blood and Wartcap powder, were an essential component of the Fire-Protection Potion – though they were notorious for exploding with enough force to knock a person out if approached.

"Shinji, wait. I see bursting mushrooms," she called out, as the others came to a halt, looking at the mushrooms to the side of the road.

"…this is tricky," Su commented, frowning. "You think the Freezing Charm will work to disarm them?"

Hermione didn't know, but cast _Immobulus on_ the mushrooms anyway, before gingerly taking a step forwards, only to step back as the mushrooms began to swell and shrink.

"Stun them, Hermione!" Shinji ordered, as he loosed a few _ofuda_ to bind the mushrooms and utterly seal their ability to sense things approaching. The bushy haired brunette did so, and they quickly harvested a number of the mushrooms.

On their way towards a base camp, they were fortunate enough to find some wartcaps, which Shinji took the lead in harvesting, since his gloves protected him from direct contact with the substance – which otherwise would cause unprotected skin to stiffen into a hard crust, a magical infection that would slowly spread over the rest of the body unless treated.

As a close-knit group, they avoided a number of dangerous obstacles, cleared the road, shook off another ambush party and more, before finally approaching what they thought was a base camp, only for Shinji, their de facto leader, to signal them to halt.

"Get down," the boy from the East hissed, with the others complying. Laying out a few _ofuda_ , he raised a protective bulwark of earth before him, with the others raising an eyebrow at his abilities – and why he saw the need to stop. "There are people ahead, and they're fighting."

Indeed, in the distance, beams of red and blue and green were visible through the smoke, as a battle raged.

"I guess some teams didn't want to find another base camp," Su spoke. "Is there another one we can get to?"

"I'm sure there is," Shinji replied. "But do we want to cut through more of that flaming wood?"

"…now that you mention it, no," Su answered, an expression of distaste flitting across her face. "It was bad enough, even with you as our leader."

"Hermione?" Shinji asked quietly.

"We don't even know where another one might be," the brunette spoke up, shaking her head. "Should we walk up and ask them to stop fighting? No one said there can only be one team per base camp, right?"

"Heh," Shinji grunted. "Well, that's true. I don't think they're in a mood to talk though, since…they're already hexing each other."

And since he couldn't see any of them, much less who they were, he imagined that if he was to loom out of the shadows all of the sudden and call for a ceasefire, he'd receive the full force of an attack or three – and that wasn't high on his list of priorities.

"Matou, just finish them like you did the ambushers," Su said, getting straight to the point. "I don't we have much time left."

Shinji raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright then," he said, withdrawing some of his explosive _ofuda_ and compressing and priming them into small orbs once more.

' _Zelkova, you know what to do.'_

'… _if you insist.'_

* * *

In the sky above, Cedric and the rest of his Quidditch players suppressed a frisson of horror and fear as two massive explosions of light and power erupted from the forest below, wondering what third year was ruthless enough – and had enough power – to unleash this kind of spell. True, with conditions being what they were below, it was _expected_ that most of the students would end up in conflict, even if some hoped they'd move beyond panic and actually work together, but even so…

After the shockwaves passed, they made their way down to the clearing of one of the base camps to find that Matou Shinji and his team were setting up their equipment to brew the Fire Protection Potion, having found the cache of Salamander Blood buried near the tree, and acquired the other two other ingredients en route to the camp.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Shinji said casually, motioning over towards the sides of the clearing, where a number of prone bodies lay. "There are six people who need extraction. We found them fighting over the camp and couldn't take the risk they'd target us."

"…so you…blew them up?" one of the Quidditch players whispered.

"I did what I had to," the Boy from the East replied. "No more no less."

In the end, his team would be one of the two to emerge from the burning labyrinth on their own two feet, successfully brewing the Fire Protection Potion and walking through the ring of fire that surrounded the area.

The other was a Hufflepuff team led by Susan Bones, which earned the girl a good bit of respect. Apparently, she and her teammate Hannah Abbott had known the Bubble-Head Charm, which had kept them from succumbing to the fear and panic others did. They'd proceeded slowly, avoiding confrontation and keeping low to the ground to avoid looming out of the smoke at anyone, and had reached a base camp relatively quickly, and – as experts in Herbology – had managed to gather the ingredients relatively quickly.

All in all, it was about as messy as the Gryffindor and Slytherin joint session, which had happened in a different section of burned forest…

* * *

For Matou Shinji, it was almost refreshing to sit down to a meeting in the Ourea clubroom after his journey through the burning wood – and after a long shower as well, to get the smell of smoke out of his nostrils. He was drained, completely and utterly so, and though he had been feted as one of the few to pass that session, it hadn't felt like victory.

Especially given how quickly rumors spread, and how some thought of him as a ruthless destroyer who it was futile to face, while some – the people he'd knocked out – blamed him for making them fail.

' _Honestly, they only have themselves to blame.'_

He understood how fierce competition was, and how the constraints of this particular session had brought out the worst in everyone, but he'd expected better of his classmates. He surely hadn't expected Cedric to look at him warily, as if he might be a rival at some point – it wasn't as if he wanted to be a school champion or such.

"So, Matou, what's happening with the Stone Cutters since the Head Boy is graduating this year?" came a voice from the table – that of Draco Malfoy. "Will you be recruiting someone else to replace him?"

Shinji sighed, not really wanting to deal with this, but it was something he had to, given that he was the leader of the Ourea, and it had always been implied that members of the Ourea would have an advantage when it came to recruitment.

"That's a good point," Cedric affirmed, nodding slowly. "And what of the Tri-Wizard and Potions Champions? Given that students so selected would have accomplished the extraordinary, surely they'd be considered for membership in the Stone Cutters?"

Luckily, he had talked to Hillard at the beginning of the year, and had at least a partial answer.

"The Head Boy is preparing a trial by fire to help us select who will come after him," Shinji replied, nodding to both Diggory and Malfoy. "Though I stress that whoever is selected must be approved by all current members of the Stone Cutters, as it is not just a club, but a network of comrades. As for the Tri-Wizards and Potions Champions – well, we'll see what happens, since the Weasley Twins are being talked about as candidates for both of them."

"…that much is true," Cedric conceded, shaking his head. "Can't help but feel you're missing a Hufflepuff though."

"Well if you become a Champion, there will be a good chance," Shinji answered. "More if you face a practitioner of the Dark Arts or such, but those are a bit rare on the ground."

"Thankfully," Cedric grunted. "Look, whatever else, I'll admit you all deserve the honors you've gotten. Surprised that you skipped a year in Runes though."

"So was I," Cho Chang spoke up, eyeing Shinji curiously. "I didn't expect Matou to walk into my classroom and sit next to me today. But he's very…good."

"Thanks," Shinji noted, inclining his head with a wan smile. "But the thing is, we won't always be there. And so, as the leader of the Ourea, I'd like to propose the formation of a Self-Defense Club to help the students of Hogwarts put what they learn in the classroom into practice."

This caused a bit of interesting chatter about the round table, as the others talked about the implications of such a club, how it would run and such.

But of course, the most interesting question was who would lead the group.

"I had in mind Susan Bones as leader, given her performance in the most recent Potions-Herbology joint session, with Pansy Parkinson as her second in command," Shinji suggested, opening the floor for discussion. "Any opposed?"

"Me," came the voice of none other than Susan herself. When Shinji looked at her, bidding her wordlessly to go on, the girl just bit her lip and frowned. "I don't feel like I'm qualified. You probably know my aunt is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but she's not me. I'm good in Herbology, not Defense, and…" She looked powerlessly over at Cedric. "I think someone more experienced would be a better candidate to lead the students of Hogwarts in learning to defend themselves."

"Cedric, what do you have to say?" Shinji inquired. He could admit to himself that on paper, the other boy _was_ a good candidate to lead the organization, as Cedric had received training from Moody and Hillard last year during the Black Incident, and was already a decorated leader. The trouble was that, as a Consul, a Prefect, and as Hufflepuff Quidditch Team Captain, he was extremely busy.

"I think…Susan has potential," Cedric acknowledged, wanting to come across as diplomatic and not…well, power-hungry. "Especially after _that_ session. I'm proud of her for leading her team to safety – the only one besides yours to escape in time, Matou. But…"

"But…?" Shinji coaxed.

"It's true that most of Hogwarts would probably have problems following the instructions of a Third Year," Pansy pointed out. "Having one as second in command would work." And here she flashed him an appreciative smile, as Shinji almost felt Hermione tense up next to him. "But not in overall charge, except if it was Harry. Or maybe you, Matou."

"Does anyone have another suggestion then?" he asked quietly.

"How about this?" Pansy offered. "Cedric will be the Self-Defense Club's nominal leader, while Susan and I work as the group's second in commands, doing most of the work of organizing things."

"That sounds like a good idea," Luna chimed in, her eyes bright.

"Susan, Cedric, what do you think about that?" Shinji inquired, raising an eyebrow. It sounded like a fair enough arrangement, and two people as Cedric's deputies would probably be enough people to take up any slack.

"…well, if Prefect Diggory is ok with it, I think that would be ok," Susan allowed. "It _would_ give me a chance to learn from someone more experienced."

"It sounds fair to me," Cedric said. He wasn't about to turn down an offer like this, after all. "This way I get to pass down my experience, and having two deputies will be useful if things get busy. You do have potential though Susan. Matou wouldn't have picked you to be here otherwise."

"All of you have potential," Shinji affirmed, his eyes looking over the group he led. "Some have already realized most of it. Some are just starting out their journeys as leaders. But you _are_ leaders, or you wouldn't be here. You faced the _Kobayashi_ _Maru_ , came to grips with your fears, did well in that forest. There is not a person in this room I wouldn't mind having by my side should I face a practitioner of the Dark Arts."

Admittedly, the last bit was a stretch at best, but it sounded good, and it made Hermione, sitting next to him, all but glow.

"Um, Shinji," Hermione asked. "Do you plan to set up a group dealing with Potions under the Ourea as well?"

"Maybe next year. Right now, Professor Snape controls the Potions club, and something tells me crossing him would be a _very_ bad idea."

Those in third year and above shuddered, having seen what the Professor was willing to do in the pursuit of excellence, while the second years blinked.

"Why? He's strict, but he seems fair," Ginny Weasley spoke up with a puzzled expression. "I've heard the new classes are helping everyone learn Herbology better too, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"You'll know next year, Miss Weasley," Shinji replied, with the girl blushing as their eyes met. "I just hope you're as talented as your brothers."

"I-I'll try not to disappoint."

"Oh, Matou," Draco spoke up, frowning. "Do you know what Professor Lockhart plans for Halloween this year? Another play, maybe?"

"I hope it will be _A Midsummer Night's Dream,"_ Luna murmured in her sing-song voice. "I've always wanted to play Titania."

" _The Fall of Raczidian_ is one possibility," Shinji related, with several people in the room shivering as the name brought their Kobayashi scenarios to mind. "Otherwise, yes, possibly _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ Or something else entirely…"

"…hopefully not some Russian epic again," Draco Malfoy groused. "I don't really want to sacrifice myself for the Greater Good on stage."

"Well, that's up to the Professor, and as we know, he's less than…utterly predictable."


	16. The Perils of Paper

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 16.** _The Perils of Paper_

Matou Shinji was quickly coming to realize that in this world, there were things far more horrible than monsters, more intimidating than the most powerful of spellcasters, more difficult to grapple with than even the slipperiest foe. One of these, of course, was paperwork, the silent partner to death and taxes, and the cause of Shinji's current headache.

Not that some of Snape's scenarios hadn't given him a few, what with most of his classmates giving in to panic or treachery, choosing short-term solutions such as sabotaging other teams or jumping at shadows in the forest as opposed to attempts to cooperate for mutual benefit. Or with how some had begun to look at him with apprehension after the burning forest incident, with Zelkova dutifully informing him of the rumors of his apparent power and ruthlessness.

Maybe it was true that one either died a hero or lived long enough to become a villain, if one didn't manage one's PR very carefully.

Lockhart would know better than he, Shinji assumed, given that the adventurer had navigated the treacherous waters of fame and conspiracy for far longer, but that was something to deal with later, after he finished this current batch of documents that had been sent to him from Gringotts.

The path to home ownership was a long and perilous one – especially it was an ancestral home he was attempting to acquire before it was listed for sale, as he didn't want to deal with competition from other possible bidders (such as perhaps, Lucius Malfoy). Sadly, Matou Shinji had discovered that acquiring real estate with a history as venerable as that of the Black Estate was not simply a matter of throwing a million Galleons at the owner and getting the property in exchange.

No indeed. Instead, there were affidavits he had to sign, letters of intent he had to write, written negotiations over what additional property would be included in the purchase price, conditions that would result in him declining the purchase, and debates over services he expected to be completed before property turnover and so forth.

For instance, Sirius Black, on hearing of his interest, had initially wanted to sell him the house as is to get it off his hands – but Shinji had no interest in a dilapidated ruin that had been neglected for over a decade. _He_ wanted Black to renovate and remodel the house before it changed hands, so that what he was acquiring for his money would be _at the very least_ suitable for human habitation – though frankly, he wanted more than that. If he was going to shell out a million Galleons or more on a house he didn't have an immediate use for, he wanted a rather impressive dwelling.

…if he'd known the condition the house was in before he'd begun negotiations with Black, engaging one of the Goblins of Gringotts to serve as an intermediary to protect his identity (as him writing to Gringotts – and Gringotts to him, would provoke far less attention than him writing to Black and vice versa) and help him fill out the paperwork, he might very well have decided not to buy it after all. Alas, now that he'd gone through so much trouble, he was already deeply invested in acquiring the house, with a portion of his funds already in escrow as a sign of how serious his intent to purchase was, it would be more trouble than it was worth to back out.

At the very least, the termination fees and other penalties imposed by the Goblins for not negotiating in good faith would be rather steep, being double the anticipated commission.

"Ugh…" Shinji groaned as he read through another sheet of dense legalese. There were few things worse than conducting legal correspondence in a second language, especially when one was less than entirely unfamiliar with the laws of the realm in question. Thankfully, assisting practitioners of witchcraft with property purchases and negotiations was certainly a service the goblins of Gringotts offered – for a fee.

' _Everything comes with a fee…'_

Still, as much of as hassle as this was, it was better than the alternative, since as of yet, no one else had reached out to Black yet. Not that he was surprised, since he was acting on privileged information from Harry, and the others who'd heard about it had mentioned that their families couldn't simply afford to buy the Black house.

All the more reason to negotiate a final contract quickly, before Black got any ideas about listing 12 Grimmauld Place on the open market, where the price would skyrocket due to competition from the Malfoys or other wealthy families.

So he'd taken to going over the relevant paperwork in the mornings, surrounded by the treasures of the Room of Hidden Things to remind himself of why he'd gotten into this mess to begin with, though Zelkova's constant queries and musings didn't help.

"I do not understand the human attachment to gold as a medium of exchange," the _kodama_ noted as he wandered the room in human form, his golden eyes peering curiously at the many artifacts and curios collected there over the ages. "Nor why goblins desire it so."

"Oh?" Shinji questioned, looking up from the stacks of parchment on the table before him.

"It is not an especially useful metal, as it has little purpose in magic, and is too soft for use in war," the tree spirit mused, shaking his unruly blue hair. "Perhaps it is useful for ornamentation, but I don't see the purpose of that."

Not for the first time, Shinji was reminded that as a tree spirit, his familiar's way of thinking was rather…different from most.

"What would you prefer, then?" Shinji inquired. He'd never discussed currency and value with his familiar before, and he supposed the _kodama_ might have some interesting insights.

"To me, using crystallized prana, as _Mahoutokoro_ does, seems more rational," Zelkova explained, as he looked through a set of omni-occulars. "It is both useful and has an innate value for all beings. Further, prana is something humans, _youkai_ , and others all create, and so can be considered something that is inherently _theirs_."

To Shinji, that sounded much like goblin standards of ownership, where the maker of an item was its owner, with one who purchased an item only renting it for their lifetime.

"What do you mean 'inherently theirs'?" Shinji asked, tilting his head.

"As you know, I am a tree spirit. Such is why I find human notions of ownership confusing," the blue-haired youth replied, his expression impassive. "To beings like myself, we can only own what we are and what we make. A tree does not own the land it uses, nor the air or water. These things are common resources free for the use of all. And when we cease to exist, as I will in a decade's time, we have no further claim on anything at all, not even ourselves and what we might have once owned."

"Huh," Shinji said eloquently, though something else from what the _kodama_ said stuck out in his mind. "Wait…you'll cease to exist in a decade?"

"Mm." The horned youth nodded, his face utterly serene as he discussed this. "I am but an aspect of one of the old ones of _Shiretoko_. I was born as a separate being by the terms of our contract, but when it ends, so will I. When you return to that place, I will rejoin the whole. The Zelkova you know will no longer exist."

Shinji blinked at this. He'd known he'd have to return to _Shiretoko,_ as per the terms of his contract with the elder kodama, but not about the implications of that.

"Aren't you…anxious at all about that?" the Matou scion asked, eyes narrowing.

"Why should I be?" the familiar asked in turn, golden eyes looking at his Master without blinking. "Were it not for our contract, I would not have been born. Should I be upset that this very contract means that I will cease to be? We have the time that we have, no more, no less. I simply happen to know when my time will come."

"That's…interesting," Shinji allowed, trying to wrap his head around the other's easy acceptance of his end. "Out of curiosity, what do you think about human inheritance laws, then? Passing an item from one person to another, say – one that has been bought?"

"Trees do not have families, as you know, so the concept of inheritance is foreign to us. But I suppose it would depend if the one who created the item is alive," the kodama replied after a moment. "If so, the creator would have the first claim to it. If not, then there would be no conflict, as a maker who has passed has no claim. This is related to your…paperwork?"

Shinji nodded.

"The goblins don't believe people can truly buy one of their artifacts, only rent them," he explained, shaking his head. "For them, if a practitioner of witchcraft passes it to another without further payment to the maker, it is essentially theft."

"Something created has value because of the creator's time. Payment, especially in these metals…" Zelkova trailed off, not really sure what to say.

"…I see what you mean," Shinji commented, looking around at the great treasure hoard of the Room of Hidden Things. "I suppose none of the things here mean much to you then?"

"Not particularly, no," the _kodama_ replied quietly. "Perhaps the diadem you mentioned, given its nature, but the rest are simply things accumulated over time. An interesting assortment of the things humans forget about or try to hide. The things that are lost or thrown away by others provide at least as much insight into who and what they are as the things they value."

Shinji blinked.

"I…never thought about it that way," he conceded, smiling ruefully. "I'm just glad this is interesting to you."

"Of course it is," Zelkova answered, looking off into the distance. "Much as Hogwarts was interesting to you when you first came here. The wonder of a new land, the strangeness of foreign customs, and so many things to discover. Much as _Mahoutokoro_ was for you, right, Miss Lovegood?"

Shinji startled as there was the air rippled, with the form of Luna Lovegood appearing from what seemed like nothingness, her wide silver eyes looking upon the _kodama's_ horned form with frank curiosity.

…only Luna seemed somewhat different, given that she was clad in what seemed like a dress of midnight blue, with pure white ears like those of a fox adorning her head – and a fluffy white tail protruding from her derriere.

"Hello, little _kitsune,"_ the kodama spoke, bowing to the new arrival. "And her Master of course."

"Hullo," Luna replied quietly, curtseying in turn. "Pandora says hello as well. You are…Zelkova?"

"Mm, that's right," the youth spoke. "I'm Zelkova. Matou Shinji's familiar. I believe my Master is finishing up some work at the moment, but I would be happy to spar once he is finished."

"Oh?" the blonde echoed, as an orb of blue foxfire materialized in her hand. "I'm still getting used to this form. Magic feels…different, than usual, and I don't need a wand."

"…how did this happen, Luna?" Shinji asked, his eyes intent as he looked upon the form of his good friend and how she was using wandless magic.

Actual wandless magic, not simply a stored spell.

"I suppose you would call it fusion," Zelkova explained. "As you know, possession is an ability all _youkai_ have, though usually we retain control in such a union. But with your kind, there have been occasions where the abilities of the master and those of the familiar are shared, where purpose and power are aligned."

"With the familiar's magical core serving in the place of the wand…"

"Precisely," the familiar explained. "It is a difficult thing to achieve, however. Hence, why your kind devised the false echoes."

"…interesting," Shinji said, putting away the paperwork for now, his interest piqued. "You don't seem surprised about Zelkova though, Luna."

"There are stranger things in heaven and earth than we dare to dream," Luna quipped, paraphrasing the words of the Bard. "Join me for a spar?" she asked with an ethereal smile.

"It would be our pleasure, right Zelkova?" Shinji answered, with the white-clad youth beside him materializing something that seemed like a wooden scythe.

"Of course. Let us begin."

* * *

After a long, drawn out battle, which Shinji thought he and Zelkova only won due to Luna being very new to the fused form – and because it was a two on one battle, they explored the Room of Hidden Things for a while, with each selecting a few things for themselves and others to send off to Gringotts, where they were slowly but steadily building up their accounts.

Such was always useful in the event he needed to make unexpected purchases, after all – and he expected he might, given that buying a house probably meant furnishing it as well, among other things. Fortunately, it was the weekend, so there wasn't much to do – something Shinji was glad for, given how brutal some of Snape's scenarios had been, as well as how much homework there had been for his other classes.

At least Ancient Runes was easy enough for now, but some of the work for Transfiguration and Arithmancy were…annoying, to say the least.

And with Lockhart training him to move and fight without the benefit of magic – often making sure the boy didn't have his wand on him during the various scenarios he set up for Shinji's benefit, some of which involved matching the body language of local townspeople as he made his way to a destination in a strange city, some of which involved navigating obstacle courses where success was only possible through seeing one's environment in a new way.

It was as if moving through the world was a puzzle, and to solve that puzzle, one had to see all the possibilities of how it might be navigated, whether by going around something, leaping a gap, going through a tunnel, or other such.

Often the scenarios involved avoiding enemies, reaching objectives without being noticed, or things of that sort, instead of the straightforward confrontations Shinji was used to – and without the benefit of magic, besides.

"As an adventurer, you don't always have the option to fight," Lockhart told him. "Granted, sometimes the only way out _is_ through, but oftentimes, it is better if you manage to reach your objective unseen and unnoticed."

And so he taught Shinji more than just how to move. He thought him a different way of thinking, allowing him to look past society's common rules and assumptions of how things should be – and at what was really there, to look at the possible, not the expected.

Others relied on common assumptions, and so often had issues dealing with unexpected situations; to be a truly effective adventurer or combatant, Shinji had to see what was actually there, and to use them, while keeping in mind what others thought or assumed.

"This, above all else, is the thought that underlies the art of movement," Lockhart liked to say. "You have heard me say that nothing is true – that all is permitted. Do you know what that means?"

"That we should be free to consider all possibilities?"

"Not quite, Matou," the adventurer corrected. "It is not a command to be free. It is a command to be wise, to realize how fragile the assumptions upon which the world rests truly are, and to understand that in considering your possibilities, that actions have consequences that we must live with, whether glorious or tragic."

"And that we do not always know of them in advance," Shinji concluded.

"Precisely."

Privately, Shinji wondered where the man had learned this ideology, as the rule of consequences and logical thinking wasn't exactly taught at Hogwarts, but kept his silence. Lockhart clearly had his secrets, given his knowledge of the Templar Order and such, but it wasn't as if Shinji himself didn't, not with his own background.

Still, given how rarely he had free time, it was odd having nothing to do – at least until the Self-Defense Club meeting that night.

He supposed he could watch the Ravenclaw Quidditch team practice if he was really inclined to, but he really wasn't a big fan of the sport. Like Harry, he saw Quidditch as a waste of time. So he found his feet taking him to the Founders' Tower, in the hopes that someone would be there.

* * *

As it so happened, the other Stone Cutters had had the same idea, and in one of the rooms below the library, Harry and Hillard were locked in deadly battle, with the Weasley Twins looking on as Hillard's superior charms and transfiguration knowledge were brought to bear against Harry's ability to use _ofuda_ , and the superior protections offered by his robes.

"Certainly exciting—"

"—wouldn't you say, Matou?" the twins asked, raising an eyebrow as an obviously tired Matou Shinji walked in.

"I suppose. A bit more balanced than when one of my teachers spars me," he related, remembering the many times he had been defeated in combat by Sajyou-san, Tomas, Hijiri, or Kaiduka. "Though Hillard has the edge, I think, since he's a bit more experienced."

Just then, a stunning spell from the Head Boy's wand struck home, slamming Harry backwards, though the Boy-Who-Lived arrested himself in mid-fall, after a second flash of red light covered him, much to Hillard's consternation.

"Of course, Harry has his share of tricks too," Matou Shinji conceded, recalling that Tomas had instructed Harry in Defense for a time, and wondering exactly what the puppet had taught the Heir of Slytherin.

' _I can still win – I think…'_

It was hard to say, as he hadn't actually gone all out against his friend in a while, and unlike the others at Hogwarts, Harry also knew how to use _ofuda,_ so any advantage he had there would probably be marginal.

True, he knew more potent abilities than Harry at this point, given that he was now working on nature interference spells and elemental manipulation, but power wasn't everything.

Well, maybe if he achieved spirit fusion that would be different, since that offered a considerable boost in power and speed both, but he had a while to go as far as that was concerned, given how different his mindset was from Zelkova's.

…not that spirit fusion was something he'd be comfortable showing off to most others in Britain, given the prejudice against the inhuman, as if they were somewhat…less than practitioners of witchcraft. Why, aside from a few prominent ones, even ghosts were seen as essentially set pieces and background, with few bothering to ask them what secrets they knew.

…aside from say, people like Tom Riddle, Luna Lovegood, and himself, who thought of the world differently.

Still, if he didn't expect to end up in Magical Britain after Hogwarts, having an ability like that would be quite useful, especially if he ever went head to head with a magus or a youkai, since his wand-based spells wouldn't be very effective against them.

And well, the extra magical resistance it would give him was not inconsiderable either…

In the background, the duel came to its conclusion, with Hillard doing something much like what Luna had done to _him_ and pulling Harry into the air by his exposed pant leg, in a movement quick and violent enough that Harry lost his grip on his wand – only for ofuda to shoot towards Hillard, who cancelled the levitation spell and silently burned up the talismans.

"Draw?" Hillard offered, as Harry hit the ground with a muffled thud and groan of pain.

"…draw," the Boy-Who-Lived said through his teeth. "Did you learn that from Moody?"

"Well, if I can't stun you, there are other ways to disable you," Hillard replied. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're invincible, just because you can block most other spells. Good use of the shield spell earlier though."

"…Thanks," Harry said, rubbing his somewhat sore back. "I'll keep that in mind." He turned towards the spectators to see his first friend at Hogwarts there. "Been a while, Shinji."

"Indeed," Matou Shinji agreed, smiling despite himself. "We haven't all been in one place in a very long time."

"We're all—"

"—too busy—"

"—these days," the twins chimed in. "It was easier—"

"—before everyone—"

"—wanted to be our—"

"—best friends."

"Isn't that the truth?" Hillard grunted, shaking his head. "I mean, don't get me wrong, there are benefits—"

"—like the love of—"

"—the lovely lady Tonks—"

"—perhaps?"

"… _that aside,_ life has been interesting, _"_ the Head Boy continued. "Becoming Head Boy, getting apprenticeships and mentor opportunities, and well, Harry's whole reign as Heir of Slytherin."

"Well, reign is a bit…" But the Boy-Who-Lived trailed off, since he couldn't completely dispute it. "You might have a point. Still, it _was_ nice to know who our friends were, before everyone wanted to get close to us."

"Not that—"

"—Harrikins minds—"

"—dating Lady Greengrass."

"…admittedly Daphne's been one of the best things to happen to me," Harry said with a wistful smile. "She brings out the best part of me."

"The embarrassed—"

"—snogged silly—"

"—part, more like," was the Twins' contribution, which earned them a withering glare from Harry. "Though—"

"—speaking of snogging—"

"—who is everyone taking to the Halloween Ball?" Fred inquired.

"And is anyone doing the play this year?" George added.

Given how Dumbledore's death had rocked Magical Britain last year, Lockhart had made plans to have this Halloween be a grand celebration involving the Stone Cutters, as it deserved, given that All Hallows Eve was the most important holiday to western practitioners of witchcraft. Yes, many heroes of the past had fallen, but the hope of Wizarding Britain was still alive in well, as exemplified by the powerful magic and the great bravery of its heroes.

There would be a play again, yes, but also a formal dance, to be opened by the Stone Cutters and their partners in a grand Waltz. Unlike the Triwizard Tournament, all students of Hogwarts were welcome to attend – and the History Professor had mentioned that they and their partners would be featured in the _Daily Prophet._

No small bit of pressure, this.

"Well, I'm taking Daphne," Harry began, since this wasn't exactly a surprise to anyone. He looked over at Hillard questioningly, as the older boy huffed.

"…yes, fine, I'm taking Tonks," the Head Boy admitted, his cheeks tinged a healthy pink. "She's coming as part of the security detail for the event."

"Ohoho!" Fred and George commented.

"And what about you Weasleys?"

"…ah. About that…" Fred began.

"We hadn't…"

"…actually decided yet," the Twins replied with a shrug.

"I'll probably ask Angelina Johnson," George admitted. "I have fancied her for…a few years now. And you, Fred?"

But there as only silence, with Fred's face screwed up as if in thought.

"Fred, brother of mine?"

"…maybe Cho Chang," the other Weasley said, much to the surprise of the other Stone Cutters. "She's…nice."

Robert blinked.

"Well, that's your choice, of course," he said diplomatically, remembering the rumors Cho had spread about the _Kobayashi Maru_ scenario and such. "And what about you, Matou?"

All of the others craned their heads over towards the Boy from the East, given that his love life was the subject of much speculation.

"Maybe Hermione," Shinji replied, only to see raised eyebrows from Hillard and a small frown from Harry. "Well, the thing is…I don't think she'd have anyone to go with otherwise and I don't want her to feel left out. She isn't…great with people."

"No one should have to be alone, its true," Harry acknowledged. While he didn't much care for Hermione, he understood Matou's reasoning - the same reasoning that had led Shinji to sit with him on the train all those years ago.

Hillard grunted. He hadn't thought that was why Shinji would invite someone though, given the other rumors... "But isn't the same true of Lovegood?" At an odd look from Shinji, he raised his hands defensively. "I'm not teasing you, I'm genuinely curious."

"Luna at least has her friend Ginny to keep her company," Shinji said with a lopsided smile. "And if not…"

'… _well, I wonder if Zelkova might be interested in going with her to see how the evening is…'_

"You're a good friend then, I suppose," Hillard noted, shaking his head. "Just…be careful, alright? Hearts can be very fragile things sometimes."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shinji replied, closing his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd been told that, and he really was just trying to be nice. He thought Luna would understand though, since she knew what it was like to be alone. "But yes, is anyone going to be in the play this year?"

"Not me," Hilllard answered. "The Professor offered, since he wanted to put on _The Fall of Raczidian,_ with me as the hero, so he could show off my ability to cast a Patronus, but I suppose he'll have to make do with something else."

"Not us—"

"—this time," the twins added. "As nice as it was—"

"—last year. There will be—"

"—enough time in the spotlight"

"No, not me," Harry chimed in, shaking his head. "You know how I am with Halloween."

"Well, I'm not participating either this year," Shinji said, "so why don't we all have a private dinner here in the Tower, to honor the fallen, remember who and what we fight for, and to well, talk. Halloween was the day we became brothers and comrades in arms. Let's remember that day before we go our different ways."

"Hmm. Should we—"

"—invite Peeves?"

"…only if he promises to behave," Hillard growled.

* * *

Later that night, they went down to take a look at the first session of the Self-Defense Club, and how the students gathered for that were being drilled in individual spellwork, with Prefect Diggory mentioning that in light of the current year of Potions-Herbology, they would have the opportunity to work on small-unit group tactics, given the fluid flexibility of such and the value of practical experience.

It wasn't enough to know how to cast a spell, after all.

Being able to cast was important, but so was knowing when a situation called for a spell – or to move.

And so there would individual drills, but also some games, with the Quidditch Pitch being used during non-practice hours for bouts of what Lockhart called 'Capture the Flag.'


	17. Nothing is True

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 17.** _Nothing is True_

More than anything else this year, Hermione Granger enjoyed the quiet moments she spent with Matou Shinji in the Ourea Clubroom, as he taught her about the various herbs and plants he had encountered in the East, transcribing his notes into English for her benefit and even taking the trouble to describe and sketch out the various plant species.

Their study sessions meant a lot to her, as she knew how the Boy from the East prized his secrets – and yet of his own free will, he'd chosen to teach _her._ To support _her_ instead of say, Harry Potter or the Weasley Twins, his fellow Stone Cutters – and competitors for the title of Hogwarts Potions Champion.

Much of her life, adults had praised her, calling her responsible, studious, and bright (or synonyms thereof), but Matou was really the first of her peers – Sokaris aside – to truly believe in her, to see her as special.

He'd chosen her as Consul, when he hadn't trusted anyone else with that responsibility last year, except for the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw, who hadn't really exercised much in the way of power but was (perhaps not so) surprisingly knowledgeable about history, even if her accounts didn't always match up with those of the textbooks – even in her beloved _Hogwarts: A History_.

Why, the shade of Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter had even once tried to rationalize Salazar Slytherin's desire to exclude Muggleborns from Hogwarts by saying that the Founder had only wished to make sure the school would not be found by witch-hunters, who might see might see the mysterious disappearances of Muggleborn children from their villages as something to be concerned about.

But that didn't make sense, for witch-hunters would be Muggles, surely, without any magic of their own, and as such wouldn't have the ability to defeat the Muggle-Repelling Charms and other protections around Hogwarts…right? All the books said so.

The Grey Lady had stopped talking after that and drifting away through the walls of Ravenclaw Tower, leaving Hermione to wonder if she'd said something wrong.

Shinji had assured her that Helena Ravenclaw probably hadn't taken offense to Hermione's questioning – that as a ghost, she simply wasn't someone who appreciated debate or questioning, given that she'd been around for hundreds of years and knew what she knew.

Which made sense, given that even Professor Binns, who'd been a ghost for a much shorter period of time, was also quite stubborn and single-minded, as if, without a body and sensation to know that he was real, he clung to every bit of himself and his past as if to cry out: "I'm still here."

But she pushed all that aside, focusing on the sound of Matou's voice – on how he looked at her, how he smiled, how his fingers sometimes brushed hers by accident as he pointed out something or other and asked if she understood.

Being here, alone, with him, learning something from him in these private study sessions where his focus was on her and only her – it was almostlike a date. Especially after their first session, when he'd asked her to close her eyes, upon which he'd proceeded to fasten something about her neck.

When she'd opened her eyes and look down, she was stunned at the sight of the necklace he'd bought for her birthday – a pendant of cherry blossoms wrought of silver and pearl suspended on a delicate silver chain.

A beautiful gift, and one that warmed her heart.

In the weeks since, he'd shown her much care and tenderness during the Potions-Herbology sessions, even helping her through the burning forest – a challenge she would have failed, if not for his courage and skill. She only hoped that when Hogsmeade visits came about after Halloween, he'd ask her to go with him…that her belief that he'd come to care for her as more than just a friend wasn't a mistake.

Or maybe…

"Hermione?" Shinji was saying, looking at her oddly.

"Oh. Yes, Shinji?" the girl replied, her cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment. She'd paid more attention to his voice and to him than what he was saying…

"You heard about the Halloween Ball, yes?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

It would have been almost impossible not to, given that Lockhart had announced it at breakfast about a week ago. As the Hogwarts social event of the year, and the castle was abuzz with rumors of who was asking who – with the dates of the Stone Cutters quite the topic of speculation, as they and their partners would open the dance – and would be featured in the _Daily Prophet_.

She didn't dare hope that he would choose _her_ as his partner, and frankly, had assumed he'd just choose to spend the evening with Luna Lovegood, since the blonde _was_ his childhood friend.

And then she froze, her heart leaping in her throat as Shinji got down on one knee and produced a bouquet of flowers seemingly out of thin air.

"Well then, Hermione Granger," he said with a roguish smile. "Would you do me the honor of being my companion at the Halloween Ball?"

She said nothing for a moment, stunned at what he had said. Surely he hadn't – no…he _had._ He _had._ Joy and elation flooding through her as his question sunk in. He'd asked _her_ to the ball, with the entire school – no, all of Wizarding Britain – being witness to her being the happiest girl on earth. To be his partner in feature in the _Prophet_ and more…

Well, after that, there was only one way she could answer him.

"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes. I'd love to!"

* * *

A number of similar scenes occurred around the castle, with George Weasley asking Angelina Johnson to the ball after Quidditch practice, Harry asking Daphne during one of their walks around the castle, and…an interesting scene where Fred Weasley asked Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang, only to find that she'd already agreed to go with Cedric Diggory.

And though the Gryffindor Beater had no shortage of people who wanted to go with him because he was a Stone Cutter, he didn't want someone who only admired him for that. So he ended up asking Heidi Macavoy, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers he got along with, with her accepting.

As the weeks went on, the students and teachers of Hogwarts continued on their business, with

Hermione receiving a yet another surprise when Professor Lockhart offered her a role in this year's Halloween play, a production adapted from _The Fountain of Fair Fortune,_ one of the fairy tales found in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

It was a story she knew well, given that book had been Shinji's first present to her – the first Christmas present she'd ever received from someone other than her parents. And of the stories in that tome, that was perhaps her favorite, as the moral of the story was that one didn't need magic to achieve her heart's desire – that through hard work and a bit of luck, happiness could be found in the gifts one had and in one's friends.

The Professor had summoned her to his office after class, purportedly to talk about her performance as Consul, but now that she was here, he didn't seem interested in talking about History at all.

"Miss Granger," Gilderoy Lockhart intoned, his blue eyes cold and hard as ice as he looked upon her. "I have heard a rumor that you are to be Matou Shinji's companion for the Ball. Is this true?"

Hermione swallowed under the intensity of his gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

"Yes, Professor…" she managed. Was he going to say she was no good, or that he hoped it wouldn't affect her performance? But the man said none of these things, the air of danger about him dissipating as he _smiled_.

"Wonderful," he said, setting a small folder in front of her, containing a…script? "Then as part of the Halloween celebration, allow me to offer you one of the leading roles in this year's play, as I have done for Angelina Johnson and Heidi Macavoy."

Hermione was rather taken aback by this, as she'd never thought – never imagined performing in front of other people before. It was one thing to ask a question in class, another entirely to be _acting_ _on stage_. That…wasn't something she could do. Was it?

"I…"

"Let me be frank, Miss Granger," the man interjected. "I know of how you wish to become the Potion Champion of Hogwarts. If you do, you will be the subject of attention and scrutiny from the entire wizarding world. And I have heard from some that you have frozen up under the pressure of Professor Snape's challenges."

Hermione cringed at this. It was true, after all – especially in the fire scenario, when she'd been in the thick of the situation, as opposed to being safely at the base camp.

"I see that this is true," Lockhart continued. "Then why not work out your anxieties on the stage. Practice your skills as you do as one of the Ourea."

Well, that was certainly an interesting way to look at things. Hermione certainly hadn't thought about it like that before.

"What role, and what play, sir?" the brunette inquired, curious now. "Another Russian Epic?"

"Oh, no, not at all, Miss Granger," Lockhart said, covering his mouth as he chuckled. "The _Fountain of Fair Fortune."_

"Oh. The story from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"_

"The very same," the Professor acknowledged with a smile. "And the cause of quite a bit of scandal the last time it was put on at Hogwarts several decades ago."

"Oh?"

"Oh yes. Herbert Beery, who taught Herbology at the time, wished to put on a Yuletide production for the students at Hogwarts. Sadly, there were a series of accidents involving exploding Ashwinder eggs, a duel breaking out on stage, and the Great Hall being engulfed in flames, all of which led to the Professor's resignation."

 _That_ hadn't been in Hogwarts: A History, but then the book didn't include much that happened after the 1800s.

"What happened to Professor Beery?" Hermione asked, now wondering if _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_ was the Wizarding World's equivalent of _Macbeth_ or something. Not in its content matter, of course, but the fact that the play seemed to be cursed.

As a fan of Shakespeare's plays, she knew of the superstitions that saying the name _Macbeth_ inside a theatre – or quoting its lines within a theatre, except as part of an actual rehearsal or performance of the play – would cause disaster. According to legend, this dated all the way back to the premiere of the play, where an actor died when a real dagger was mysteriously switched with the prop, with various other theatres suffering accidents or tragedies from not observing the superstition.

As such, it was usually referred to as "The Scottish Play" or "The Bard's Play" to avoid invoking the risk of ill-fortune.

"He never put on a play again at Hogwarts," Lockhart explained with a sigh. "And after resigning from Hogwarts, only to be replaced by Pomona Sprout, he joined the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts, where he teaches to this day."

"Ah. And what role am I to play, Professor?"

"One of my personal favorites, the role of Amata," the Professor related. "Miss Johnson and Miss Macavoy were offered the roles of Asha and Altheda, respectively."

"Oh," Hermione uttered, blinking as she recalled the tale.

The story held that there was an enchanted garden protected by powerful magic, and that once a year, an "unfortunate" was allowed the opportunity to find their way to the Fountain, to bathe in the water, and win "fair fortune forever more." As it was their only chance to turn their lives around, many people – both wizards and muggles – made the arduous journey to it to try and gain entrance, with the three witches featured in the play being Asha, Atheda, and Amata.

Asha was sick of a malady no Healer she had visited could cure, and hoped the Fountain can restore her health.

Altheda had been robbed and humiliated by a sorcerer, and hoped that the Fountain would relieve her feelings of helplessness and her poverty.

And Amata…why, she had been deserted by her cruel and faithless lover, and hoped the Fountain would help cure her "grief and longing."

"Is this a problem, Miss Granger?" Lockhart asked gently. "If it is, perhaps I could ask Miss Lovegood to play the role inst—"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks coloring as she realized she'd raised her voice to a professor. "I mean, no, there's no problem, Professor. I'd be honored to play Amata."

"Very good then," the History of Magic Professor replied, treating her to a dazzling smile. "Then I expect you to memorize your lines and come back this weekend for a rehearsal. We'll be working hard to make sure this play is one to remember."

"Yes, of course!"

With that he'd dismissed her.

Perhaps if she'd been less distracted, she would have seen fit to inquire who would play Sir Luckless, the Muggle knight who ended up marrying Amata at the play's end, for it certainly wouldn't be Matou Shinji. No, indeed, for the boy had declined his offer.

So, Lockhart had given that particular role to Draco Malfoy, instead, knowing the boy's desire for fame and advancement.

…well, that and it would annoy the boy's father to no end.

Lucius Malfoy, the current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, after all, had once attempted to have the story censored because it depicted a marriage between a witch and a Muggle, and so was utterly disagreeable to the various Pureblood Supremacists he represented. However, Albus Dumbledore had put up staunch opposition to Malfoy's initiative, resulting in the two becoming bitter enemies.

And now his very son would be playing a Muggle, with a Muggleborn playing his partner Amata.

Truly, life as a Professor could be quite delicious.

* * *

On the evening of Halloween, as the students of Hogwarts assembled in the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast – and to watch the play, the Stone Cutters gathered in the Founders' Tower for a somber dinner, given that none of them were especially in the mood to celebrate.

For Harry Potter, especially, Halloween was the anniversary of the night he'd lost his parents and become the Boy-Who-Lived, and it was only because he wanted to see Daphne happy that he had agreed to participate in the Ball afterwards. But the others as well were worn and tired from their labors, some physically, some emotionally, some mentally.

For Hillard, Halloween reminded him of the first time he came close to death – when he and the others fought the troll. That night, he hadn't thought he was going to survive, but he'd told the others to run anyway, because protecting them was his duty as a prefect, and for all that he was a prankster, he was dedicated to those under his care. They'd beaten the troll then, but later in the year, when they had gone to stop Quirrell…

…that the Stone had been destroyed, with Quirrell dead, was one thing. That Sokaris had died under his watch, whoever she might have been and whatever his secrets were, was another.

For the Weasley Twins, it was the first time they had been forced to seriously apply themselves outside of their pranking. For all their raw intelligence and creativity, they hadn't really been motivated to do well in their classes, unlike their brother Percy.

After all, they had no great political aspirations, and hadn't really wanted to follow the beaten path. Academic performance was fine and all, but what use did O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s have in the real world? Their father had done well in school, and was a good man who tried his best, but up until the beginning of this school year, he had worked for knuts and sickles at a dead end job at the Ministry, stuck in an office barely the size of a broom closet.

What good did hard work do anyone? It really wasn't what you knew or how hard you tried that mattered. It was who you knew and the capital you already had, political or otherwise – people like Lucius Malfoy would always be on top. People like their father on bottom, no matter how good.

So they'd stopped trying, channeling their energy and enthusiasm into their pranks – and later, into being Stone Cutters, as the group was a non-academic avenue through which they could sate their curiosity, and be exposed to things they never dreamed were possible. To them, even the quest to steal the Philosopher's Stone had been something of a game to them, a chance to match wits with someone who might or might not be a villain and to experience an adventure that far outclassed their usual pranks.

They hadn't honestly believed they were in danger, as they were used to coming out on top – until Quirrell had ambushed them all with the Blasting Curse, and had gone on to kill Sokaris.

Sometimes they still wondered, if they hadn't thought of things as a game, if they'd taken things seriously, and applied themselves to the task completely, using every resource at their disposal, would she still be alive today? Would they have been able to win without cost, without being hospitalized? Their win…it was a fluke made possible because of Harry's special ability to negate the Killing Curse.

Without it, they'd all be dead.

They'd had a long time to think about that as they recovered in St. Mungo's.

So after being awarded Orders of Merlin, when most of Magical Britain bent over backwards to accommodate them, with stores giving them internships, the Hogwarts Quidditch teams getting sponsorships from broom manufacturers and more, they were determined to seize what opportunities they could.

They'd ceased pranking and applied themselves in class, doing better than their Professors expected. Originally, they'd planned to just fail a number of O.W.L.s to open up free time for themselves and maybe scrape up the money for a joke shop somewhere, but…that wasn't an option now.

Not when they knew that their comrades' lives might rest on what they learned, on how hard they worked.

Yes, they might have received an offer from the Chudley Cannons to join them after finishing their O.W.L.s, with the professional team offering a very attractive thousand Galleon signing bonus – but they'd declined it for several reasons. First, because conventional wisdom held that for the Cannons to win a game, they'd have to replace their entire team and down several cauldrons of Felix Felicis. Second, their father was a Professor at Hogwarts now and the family's financial situation was more stable, so they didn't need to go professional yet. Third…if they left after this year, they would be abandoning their brothers-in-arms – people who counted on them.

That last bit especially meant something to them, as the Stone Cutters were more than an organization – it was like a family, where all of them accepted the others regardless of their weakness, regardless of what they'd done.

Outside this place, there was always the fear that the fiction which had brought them fame and fortune might one day be brought to light. But here, in this refuge, they could be at peace.

In the Founders' Tower, seven chairs had been arranged about the round table they sat at.

The members of the group took up five of these, with two sitting empty.

One of course, was in memory of Sialim Sokaris, the girl who had inspired them and joined them on their great adventure – the girl whose death had changed them all.

Because of her, Harry had resolved to be the hero people expected him to be, to slay Voldemort and fulfil the Prophecy's terms. Because of her, Hillard had thrown himself into his work, becoming Prefect Watch Captain, mastering the Patronus, and finding love. Because of her, the Twins worked harder than they'd ever done, and found a new joy in living.

And because of her, Matou Shinji had found an ideal worth striving for, as he desired – one day – to stand beside her as an equal.

The other was to honor the others who could not be here that night – like Peeves, who was unofficially considered one of them but had categorically refused to take part in the evening's festivities. Why, it would ruin his image as an unsavory spirit of chaos, making people believe he had been redeemed, the poltergeist had claimed! The twins – and Shinji – had accepted the explanation, knowing Peeves was always a bit…odd even at the best of times.

"I guess there will be one chair less when you graduate," Shinji commented as he looked over at Hillard, who was looking at the empty chairs. Noticing the attention, the Head Boy smiled slightly, but said nothing.

"At least—"

"—if we don't—"

"—keep adding empty chairs—"

"—for each missing member," the Weasley Twins chorused.

"No, I think it's better with just the two," Hillard said solemnly. "One for Sialim Sokaris, who gave her life to stop…the Dark Wizard. And one for those who are simply not there. Adding more just because we have graduated would dishonor her sacrifice."

"Mm," Harry said, shaking his head. "I remember the first night we all met in the kitchens after fighting the troll. We've come a long way, huh?"

"Indeed we have, brothers of mine," Fred replied.

"Indeed we have," George echoed. "And next year, who knows where we'll be?"

"Well, some of you might be Champions, I expect," Hillard noted, his expression easing as he took a deep breath. "I'll be finishing up my Auror training I expect."

"Meaning you'll be a champion of a different sort then," Harry said wryly. "As for champions, who knows? Even if I'm getting private training in Defense and Potions from Snape, there are other skilled people."

"Mm, too true," Shinji noted, "and by that I don't just mean me."

"Ah, but the rumors…"

"…they are quite interesting," the Twins spoke up.

"You've seen some of my arts before," Shinji commented. "I just know a few things most people don't. Just as you know things about Runes I don't."

"Heh. Modesty from Matou, who'd have thought?" Hillard joked, shaking his head. "Speaking of modesty, are you buying that house after all?"

"No reason not to," Shinji replied, shrugging. It wasn't as if he thought one of his comrades were going to move before he was.

"That's a reason, I suppose," the Head Boy noted. "But why, out of curiosity? You're either here during the year or in _Mahoutokoro_ in summer."

"True, but how often does an ancestral estate get put up for sale?" the Boy from the East asked. "Better to buy while I can. And who knows, maybe you'll need somewhere to stay after graduation."

"Heh. Well, that's quite an offer, but – probably not. The pay for an Auror is quite good," Hillard replied. "But I wouldn't mind dropping by if you're around."

"I wouldn't mind that either," Harry noted. "I don't exactly have many places to go in summer, as you know. But would you just leave it empty otherwise?" The Boy-who-Lived looked at Shinji curiously. "You've never been someone who does things without a reason, after all."

"No, I'm sure it won't just be empty," Shinji answered. "One of my old friends is coming to Britain and would probably be willing to take care of the house for me. You'd know her, Harry."

He figured so, anyway, since free room and board – and a lab – was quite a nice perk.

"Oh?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he thought back to the people he'd met in Japan. "Would this be…Tohsaka?"

She was the only one he thought would qualify as an "old friend" of Matou's, and not say, his Master or so.

"Indeed," Shinji said, blinking as Harry raised a questioning eyebrow and just _looked_ at him. "What?"

Harry just sighed.

"Nothing, I suppose," the Boy-who-Lived replied, shaking his head. "Anyway, where do you think the Tri-Wizard Tournament will be next year? Here, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons?"

"That—"

"—is a good question—"

"—but one we don't know the answer to."

"I've heard Beauxbatons, but that's certainly not final," Hillard supplied, shrugging. "These things change sometimes, especially when each Ministry wants the glory of hosting the competition themselves."

"We'll see then," Shinji noted.

"Indeed. It—"

"—will be an adventure."

"Hopefully better than our first," Hillard noted, as each of the people in the room nodded. He stood, a glass of butterbeer in his hand as he looked at each of them and then at the empty chair set aside in honor of Sokaris. "In any case, a toast for the evening. To missing friends and inspirations. To those who came before and those who walk beside us. To friendship, and to futures yet to come."

"Hear, hear," Harry said, standing and raising his glass as well.

"That—"

"—we will drink to," the twins chorused, as they stood as one.

"As will I," Shinji agreed with a smile, as the group clinked their glasses together and drank deep of the brew of friendship, renewing their bonds as comrades, as fellow travelers, as brothers in arms.

* * *

From the audience, this performance of _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_ surprisingly went off without a hitch. It _was_ one of the most beloved tales of the Beedle the Bard collection, after all, and with the cast in question and the fact that Lockhart had asked the ghosts to voice the other roles and add…atmosphere, all agreed it was quite moving.

…even if the fact that Draco Malfoy was playing Sir Luckless, a muggle who fell in love with a witch, made most think twice, especially when his co-star was Hermione Granger, a muggleborn.

But then, he hadn't known who the role of Amata would go to, as there had been some mention of Cho Chang – who admittedly was quite a looker – or Daphne Greengrass being offered the spot, and he would have been more than fine sharing the spotlight with one of them.

Daphne Greengrass, as it turned out, had been tapped for the role of narrator.

For that matter, Hermione was rather cross when she'd found out that Shinji was not in fact, Sir Luckless, but at that point, she'd already agreed to be in the play, and her sense of honor wouldn't let her back out, so they'd grudgingly agreed to play their parts.

…and it was surprisingly fun, actually.

Playing the part of someone else, putting on another face, another costume, another self, was something she liked, and the story's wordplay was something she found intoxicating. She lost herself in her character – when she was on stage, "Hermione Granger", the bookworm, faded away, and all that was left was Amata, the witch.

And so the story went. With the help of magic serving as their special effects, they faced a "monstrous white worm, bloated and blind" who demanded "proof of their pain." Attack it with might and magic though they might, using whatever spells they thought of, it would not yield, until at last Asha's tears of frustration finally satisfied the fell creature, and allowed the band to pass.

…perhaps it was a good thing that Matou Shinji had not had to play the role of Sir Luckless, as the sight of the worm demanding such a thing would have brought back rather bad memories of his grandfather.

In the play, the land conspired against them, with a slope strewn with many ghostly heads telling them give up the fruit of their labours. Though they tried climbing on and on, their strength and toil availed not, until the sweat of the brow dripped to the ground and the way opened.

The final obstacle in their path was a stream, where they were asked to pay the treasure of their past. They attempted to float or leap or swim across, but failed, with nothing succeeding until Amata thought to withdraw the memories of her lover – or of just a bad day in this case – and drop them into the water, whereupon stepping stones appeared in the water, letting them cross to the Fountain.

There the friends had to choose who would bathe in the Fountain.

Asha collapsed from exhaustion and was near death, but Altheda quickly mixed a powerful potion in an attempt to revive her.

More than that though, the concoction actually cured her malady, so she no longer needed the Fountain's waters. And by curing Asha, Altheda realized that she has the power to cure others and a means to earn money, so she did not need something else to cure her powerlessness and poverty.

After coming to grips with her regret for her wayward lover, Amata realized that he was a cruel and faithless man who did not deserve her love, and what she had found someone worthy of her in the knight beside her – a brave man who had come to this place without magic, and had striven on the behalf of her and her friends, offering Sir Luckless a chance to bathe in the Fountain.

And he in turn, threw himself – in his rusted armor – at her feet and begged for her hand and her heart, with her accepting and the four going off "arm-in-arm" to live long, happy lives, never realizing that the Fountain's waters "carried no enchantment at all."

The whiff of scandal of Draco as Sir Luckless and Hermione as Amata was the big draw, but in all, the play was very well acted, and received a thunderous round of applause.

…even from the Stone Cutters, who were just coming down at the end of that.

' _He liked it. Matou…liked it…'_

* * *

The ball itself also went well, with the Stone Cutters and their dates being the talk of the evening, with everyone agreeing the couples in question looked quite fetching, every bit like heroes and their chosen companions.

Of course, people congratulated the performers on an excellent play as well, something that made Hermione very happy – especially when Shinji mentioned that she had done wonderfully. She was so happy, in fact, that she didn't mind lending him to an interestingly coiffed Luna Lovegood for a dance, with the blonde seemingly having leaves woven into her hair, with her head adorned with a crown of something like small twigs.

After all, Matou had chosen _her_ , right?

And so, in a bit of uncharacteristic boldness, when the evening was over and Shinji escorted her back to the Ravenclaw dorms, Hermione leaned forward and stole a kiss from his lips – his first kiss and hers – before bidding him good night and shyly vanishing up the stairs.

Matou, left on the landing of the stairs, just blinked as Hermione's actions sunk in, feeling mostly a sense of confusion.

She had…kissed him? But…why? Surely he hadn't done anything worthy of…?

He shook his head, resolving to think about it later, as a feeling of foreboding sat heavy in his chest. For now, he needed to go to the Room of Requirement, where he was sure his familiar – and the girl who had served as his host for the evening - would be waiting.

* * *

For those at Hogwarts, it was a pleasant enough Halloween, with even Draco Malfoy having a nice evening with his date Su Li. For many others however, including his father Lucius, who was incensed as he saw pictures of his son – _his heir –_ on one knee before a filthy Mudblood, and learned that Lockhart had made his son be a…a…Muggle in _that play,_ it was not.

None, however, probably had a worse Halloween than the wandering werewolf Remus Lupin, who in wandering Europe in search of Fenrir Greyback, had been forced to learn much of the realities of economics, politics, and what people called backpacking.

He'd never been outside Britain before. Travelling and learning how different some of the cultures of Europe could be was eye-opening, though most of the European settlements shared much of the same prejudices against werewolves.

Sometimes, he found Muggles willing to take him in for a night.

Sometimes, he slept in the woods, curled up in a hollow at the base of a tree.

Sometimes, he slept in trees or abandoned sheds, ever thankful for the supply of Wolfsbane Potion he carried with him as the full moons came and went. It was only due to his Wolfsbane potion that he could travel at all. Without it, he'd have to return to England, to find a place where he could be safe.

Tirelessly, he tracked the man named Fenrir Greyback, the person who had turned him into a monster, the one who some werewolves – once he'd been able to speak with them – still feared to this day. There were rumors of a pack on the move in Central Europe, and he'd followed, taking the old Muggle ways to avoid detection, resolving to confront his nemesis and put an end to him – or die trying.

He would have no rest until then, he was sure, even if the strange part-human called Holo had offered him sanctuary among the group of werewolves she sheltered. He didn't know what to make of her, or what side she was on, but as long as she left the wizarding world along, he supposed he could ignore her actions.

The few weres he'd spoken to didn't trust the Ministry of Britain though, given how it had treated them previously and how it had ignored Fenrir's depredations of their own people. So he'd promised them that he'd find the savage one and put him down if they would give him a fair hearing.

' _And I did promise Albus…'_

So he'd devoted every ounce of attention and cunning he had to sensing strange scents, learning if there were strangers about and such.

At a mountain range outside of Minsk, the capital of Belarus, he found Fenrir Greyback and his rogue pack.

But they were not alone, given the massive forms he saw among them – humanoid beings that towered 8 – 10 meters into the air. Beings who were natural allies of the Dark, and had served as Voldemort's assault forces in the last war.

' _The giants. He's making an alliance with the giants…_

After they'd been driven out of Britain, the giants had not been monitored or controlled at all – and now…now he supposed they would pay the price for their complacency, given that they were now mentioning Britain…

' _No…'_

He longed to fight them, longed to prove himself in battle, to do what he had promised the weres he would do – but he was one man. And he couldn't do this alone.

" _ **Aooooooooooo!**_ "

A howl sounded in the distance. Had they smelled him? Surely he was – no, the wind had changed.

With no other options, he activated his emergency portkey, landing in a crumpled heap in the _Hog's Head_ tavern, with Aberforth Dumbledore looking in surprise at the man who had appeared all of the sudden in his otherwise empty establishment.

"…what are you doing here?"

"Albus," Lupin gasped out. "I have to talk to Albus."

Aberforth only grunted and shook his head.

"Albus is dead, Lupin," he growled out. Lupin swallowed as he heard this, as without his patron, what could he do? He'd trusted the man to be there. He'd always been there, a pillar of strength even in the most trying times. But now... _'No…it can't be…'_ "He died almost a year ago. Don't bother with the Order either. Malfoy's been cracking down on things, suppressing non-governmental militias. He'd just see a meeting as an excuse to crush us."

"Malfoy...?"

"Aye. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

What? Malfoy was...Dumbledore dead? Then what hope did Britain have?

"What about…Moody?" he asked, grasping at straws. "Is he…?"

"Aye, he's still around, and officially he's not in the field anymore, so I suppose he could see you. Why?"

"War," the werewolf croaked, his eyes desperate and haunted, as Aberforth paled at the word, freezing in place. "The werewolves and giants have forged an alliance…"

There was silence so complete, one could almost hear the very dust begin to settle..

"What. Did. You. Say?" Aberforth spoke slowly, enunciating every word as if he was afraid he'd heard correctly the first time.

"War. Aberforth. _War._ " Lupin swallowed, thinking of the last conflict, and the bitter, bitter toll it had taken on well…everyone. At its end, why, hundreds lay dead. "Again."


	18. Everything is Permitted

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 18.** _Everything is Permitted_

"Did you say…giant spiders, Luna?" Shinji asked, breathing hard as he lay on his back, looking up the silhouetted form of his friend as she sat astride him, her fox-tailed figure framed by the morning light streaming in through the windows of the Room of Hidden Things. Last time he'd faced her in her fused form, he'd managed to eke out a close-won victory against her, but this time – well, he learned only too well how powerful of a trump card spirit fusion truly was.

'… _that was like fighting the onikuma all over again…or Sajyou-san.'_

In a change from their usual routine, they'd dueled in the Room of Hidden Things, using the unstable piles of treasure and junk for cover or advantage as part of their game to simulate a more realistic battlefield, pitting her abilities to hide and evade against Zelkova's abilities to sense and his to trap and predict.

On her end, she'd had invisibility, free use of foxfire and lightning, illusions and supreme maneuverability.

On his end, he'd had Zelkova's abilities and his own – _ofuda_ , bounded fields, earth abilities (which he'd tried to use to track and cage her movements – to no avail), and his yin-based abilities, but in the end, his efforts came to naught.

Facing two opponents who might have overwhelmed her if they managed to combine and coordinate their strengths, she'd separated one from the other and defeated them in detail.

And once Zelkova had been bested, well, for Shinji the duel had become something more like a high stakes game of tag that had ended up with the fox-tailed Luna pouncing on him with magically enhanced speed, knocking the wind out of him as she disarmed him with a particularly powerful yang-infused _Expelliarmus_ at point-blank range.

"You win, Luna," he'd said. He could have tried to use his _ofuda_ to bind her, now that the distance between them had been reduced to nothing, but…something told him that wouldn't have much luck with that, given the innate spell resistance afforded by fusion, as well as the fact that it would be hard to set up a binding array without catching himself in its effects when she was straddling him.

"Mm, that was fun." Luna had smiled, though she'd made no move to get off him, apparently quite comfortable where she was.

"It was," Shinji had allowed, after a few moments filled only with panting as he gasped for breath, smiling in spite of the situation he found himself in. It wasn't as if Sokaris hadn't beaten him on pretty much every occasion they'd dueled, and it was good to know that he had a ways to go yet. Things would be boring if there was nothing more to learn, nothing more to reach for. "So what did you want to do today? Can't do too much this morning, since you have a team to rally."

"Mm, nothing this morning," Luna had replied, the morning light shining on the long blonde hair framing her serene expression, her bright silver eyes looking down on him dreamily. "Tonight, perhaps? Join me for a walk in the woods?"

"Hm?" Shinji just blinked. _That_ was a bit of a departure from their usual routine, given that mornings were usually their time.

"I saw some giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest the other night," she'd murmured, brushing a wisp of hair from her eyes. "Acromantulas, I think?"

Which brought things back to the present, as Shinji frowned. Acromantulas were giant, man-eating spiders that had been created through magic and experimental breeding, usually meant to guard treasure hoards or fortresses. He didn't know if they were the same species as those he saw at _Mahoutokoro,_ but if they were – then they were impressive and intimidating creatures.

"…how many did you say?"

"Oh, hundreds of them," Luna Lovegood murmured in her dreamy tones. "Or more. I think I might have found a colony there."

"A _colony_?" Shinji all but demanded, bolting upright as pain screamed through his body – pain which was only slightly soothed by the feeling of her fingers brushing against him, the yang-aligned prana they contained easing his aches as he looked into her eyes.

One was bad enough. The thought of an entire colony of them, with hundreds, maybe more…well, to say it made him uncomfortable was putting it _mildly_. Luna didn't seem much discomfited at all, but well, Luna wasn't much like anyone else he'd ever met, except maybe Sokaris.

"Yes. Or at least I think so," the blonde said simply, nodding towards the windows. "I found them while exploring the grounds with Zelkova."

"…you were fused with Pandora, weren't you?" he asked slowly, shaking his head. "No wonder you've gotten better at using your fusion form's abilities. You've been practicing without me."

"Well, we can't all have special training with Professor Lockhart," Luna replied simply, with Shinji nodding, conceding that she had a point. "Or be busy in study sessions with Miss Granger."

 _That_ was true, he supposed. He did have a number of other commitments, meaning he couldn't devote all his free time to wandering, as Luna seemed to.

"Point taken," he conceded, giving in to the urge to just lean forward and rest his forehead against hers, letting out a little sigh as she finished her ministrations. "Sorry for being so busy."

"We all have our circumstances," the blonde murmured, her voice almost a sigh in the quiet of the room, as the tips of her fingers remained against his chest – and he brought his hand up to cover hers.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt," Shinji whispered. He wasn't talking about the duel of course, which she'd won handily – but her late night excursion into the woods. He'd learned the dangers of magical creatures firsthand when he'd fought the transformed _tanuki_ in Hokkaido, but that was _one_ creature.

She had apparently found a nest of hundreds.

"Did they see you?" he asked, biting his lip.

"No, I was invisible," she answered simply. "But spiders don't really see very well anyway. They smell their prey and feel movement on their webs and on the ground. But Zelkova hid the tremors we made so even if they smelled something, they couldn't tell exactly where we were – or what we were."

Shinji frowned at this, not having known this little tidbit about spiders and their senses. Obviously, fighting one was not simply a matter of blinding it then, since it could rely on its other senses.

"And you want to go back tonight?" the Boy from the East inquired, with his companion nodding, something he felt more than saw. "Why?"

"I'm worried," Luna Lovegood replied, silver meeting grey as her half-lidded eyes looked deeply into his. "One was wandering not too far from the Potions fields, whispering to itself about 'fresh meat.' And if the Professors don't know about the colony…"

"I know," Shinji all but whispered.

It didn't take a genius to realize what might happen in that case: a student savaged or killed, and this time not by malice, but neglect, which he thought the more dangerous of the two by far.

Having been brought up in a tradition that emphasized how dangerous the practice of thaumaturgy could be, he'd never believed that Hogwarts was very safe. Not because it was riddled with practitioners of the Dark Arts – though he didn't doubt for a second that there were probably a few scattered about, but because of how much was ignored or overlooked.

The Third Floor Corridor. The secret passageways that he assumed had been put in place by the Founders to facilitate evacuation from the Castle if need be. And of course, the Forbidden Forest, which turned out not be so forbidden after all, given the fact that detentions had been held there, and that the Potions-Herbology challenges used a portion of it.

If there was actually an _entire colony of Acromantulas_ at Hogwarts, just waiting to devour any unwary student…well, all he had to say that something was deeply, deeply wrong with Magical Britain, but at least, unlike most of the people at this school, he had alternatives.

He'd been reminded of that the day after Halloween, when he'd received a letter from Aozaki Touko, instructing you not to return to Japan for the holidays.

 _To my wayward apprentice,_

 _A week ago, I received a letter from Bathsheda Babbling, informing me that you have been advanced to the second level of Study of Ancient Runes, and asking me to provide my thoughts on your performance and motivation._

 _My review was honest and to the point: you have potential, and you work hard. Don't let the praise get to your head. You still have much to learn._

 _As to why I am writing, you are to remain in Britain for the holidays, by the request of a mutual friend, who requests your attendance at a white-tie gala at the British Museum this Christmas. And no, I will not be attending, given the likelihood of encountering my_ sister _._

 _Enclosed, please find two tickets to the gala – one for yourself and one for a guest. If you require accommodations in London, please reply so that I may inform our mutual friend. Otherwise, just keep up your training. I'm sure Tomas would like to check on your progress this winter._

 _Aozaki Touko_

 _Visiting Professor of Ancient Runes, Mahoutokoro School of Magic_

Given his background, the location of the gala (the British Museum – which served as a front for the branch of the Association deceptively named the Clock Tower), and the fact that his Master was not naming the source of the tickets, Matou Shinji had been fairly certain that the Director of Atlas was involved in this somehow, and if she was…well, there was no question that he'd obey.

Still, there was the matter of who he'd invite as a guest, given that from his Master's no doubt very deliberate mention of both their mutual friend – a Director of one of the Three Great Branches – and her sister – one of the True Magicians, the greatest monsters of the moonlit world, the other attendees were likely to be very highly placed indeed: Faction leaders, Directors and such, with a smattering of others.

That helped narrow the guest list somewhat, given that the Moonlit World was no place for most of the people he knew from Hogwarts. Luna Lovegood was perhaps the sole exception to that, given how she wasn't really intimidated by anything, and had seen the dangers of the world. And right now, his only other option was, well, Tohsaka Rin, but knowing how Japan was regarded as a magical backwater, and she'd likely received little training in the art of politics from her guardian Kotomine Kirei, well…

He'd sighed, deciding that maybe this was something he should consult Matou Zouken about, given that his _grandfather_ had once been an Archmage, and as someone who had helped found the Fuyuki Grail Wars, was likely acquainted with the major players.

He could ask his Master, but she'd never seemed to have much of a tolerance for politics. Perhaps she could help him with something more practical then? She'd asked him to let her know if he's require accommodations, so maybe she could answer some questions he had about how to maintain the fairly-sizable home he was acquiring.

Black had indicated that there would be no house-elf included in the purchase price, as the current one was defective and had been disposed of, and given the size of the estate in question, it wouldn't be practical – or at all polite – if he asked Tohsaka to effectively be his live-in maid. Which meant he needed to find an alternative, either going through the House-Elf Placement Agency or hiring domestic help, though he had no idea where to even begin going about the latter.

From his Master, he'd heard that some students coming to the Clock Tower were willing to do menial tasks for room and board, but he didn't know where to even begin asking around for that. Was there a jobs board at the Tower? Was this a word-of-mouth thing? He didn't know, but he suspected Aozaki Touko might.

So he'd written his letters and sent them off, but hadn't heard anything back – _yet._ It took a while for things to go back and forth, he knew, but logic and emotion were two very different things. Just as, according to the ideals of his family, the body was just another tool to be used for the advancement of his craft, but he was still annoyed that his first kiss had simply been _taken_ like that – without warning, without him being mentally ready, given how important first kisses were in Japanese culture.

It hadn't been unpleasant, he supposed, and there could be worse people it could have happened with, but still…

"Are you coming then?" Luna's voice broke his reverie, as did the sensation of the tip of her nose brushing against his, something which wasn't at all unpleasant, really...

"I'll be there," he promised, his voice solemn in the quiet of the room. "After all, you did win." He smiled lopsidedly as his thoughts went back to Sokaris walking through the curtain of flame to join Harry in that final room what seemed like a lifetime ago. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, after all. I'd miss you."

"Mm," was all his companion said in reply, as she leaned up and kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you. Meet me in the garden tonight?"

"Of course," he replied, though he was a bit troubled all the same, given their destination. "Should I come alone then, or should I bring someone else in case we run into trouble?"

"I'll leave that to you. After all, you're the more experienced of the two of us."

* * *

Back at Ravenclaw Tower, Hermione Granger was had been quite excited for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, given that it was a chance to finally leave the grounds of Hogwarts and explore the only all-wizarding village Britain. Alas, her excitement had been tempered by disappointment when she'd discovered that Shinji wouldn't be able to join her since he already had other plans with, with Pansy Parkinson of all people!

The brunette knew she couldn't complain too much, given that Matou was only spending with the day with _Parkinson_ because it was his duty as the leader of the Ourea, but it rankled nonetheless, especially so soon after the magical night of the Halloween Ball.

It felt almost as if the Slytherin had scheduled the start of the season on the day of the first Hogsmeade visit deliberately, to make Matou choose between his lover and his duty, though Hermione was sure that was just coincidence, as the first game of the Quidditch season – Gryffindor vs Slytherin – was next week – and well, this provided an alternative to Hogsmeade for all those too young to leave the school.

All the same…

' _Maybe it would be better if I liked Capture the Flag…'_

But the variant of the game played at Hogwarts was quite different from the sort played by Muggles in this day and age, as it involved magical combat, team based formations, and was essentially a form of low-grade war, reminding her all-too-much of the Potions-Herbology joint sessions.

So, she decided to go to Hogsmeade in the company of Su Li, the girl who'd served as her Defender in so many of the sessions, and who to her, was almost a friend.

* * *

As most of Hogwarts was making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, chatting excitedly about either Hogsmeade or the Capture the Flag matches to occur that day, Matou Shinji entered the Quidditch pitch, coming to a halt next to the blue flag flapping in the wind as he marveled at how _quiet_ things were as he looked up at all the empty seats in the stadium above.

"Quite a sight, isn't it, Matou?" Pansy Parkinson asked from beside him. "We hardly ever see all of Hogwarts come together, with everyone divided by Houses, classes, or years. Except during Feasts, or Quidditch. A fifth of all Britain at this school."

"Magical Britain anyway," Shinji replied, turning to look at the Slytherin.

"It's the only one that matters, since for most of us, it's the world we'll end up in," Pansy noted wistfully. "A world where everything will be the way it was. Again." She eyed the seating sections above and sighed. "I used to think that was fine. That was just how things were meant to be, but…" She trailed off, shaking her head, before trying again. "Have you heard of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I wonder?"

"Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

"The twenty-eight British families that are all supposedly 'truly pure-blood' back in the 1930s," she explained, brushing a lock of hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "The elite of wizarding Britain, the most separated from the Muggle world. But in the end, what does being pure-blood mean?"

"The elite, you say?" Shinji echoed.

"So most of the families believe, even if their blood isn't actually as pure as they believe," Pansy noted, her voice distant and heavy. "Even mine, really." She sighed, closing her eyes, with Shinji finding the girl's vulnerability rather jarring. "They look down upon half-bloods, Muggleborns, and half-breeds like Hagrid. After all, the wizarding world is superior to the world of Muggles and other races, right?"

"I'm not sure I'd agree with that," Shinji responded quietly. He was from a land which even now struggled with the echoes of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, events that had left a scar on the national consciousness.

"Of course you wouldn't," Pansy murmured. "You're an outsider too. To be honest, a lot of people didn't know what to make of you when you first came to Hogwarts. You were the friend of the Boy-Who-Lived and you supported his sorting into Slytherin. You knew powerful arts, could use wandless magic, even. But you openly antagonized Malfoy and spent time with Granger."

"So?" Shinji asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Some of the more rabid purebloods think it's a sign of weak magic to enjoy the works or company of Muggles, that they are tainted in some ways," the girl explained. "That by spending time with them – or with Muggleborns – this taint would rub off. It's almost like they believe that slowly, Muggles are stealing their magic."

"And the people who don't believe that?"

Pansy chuckled, but the sound was harsh.

"Like the Weasleys, you mean?" she asked, whereupon Shinji nodded. "Many of us call them blood-traitors, since they are part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but have no desire to be. It was only…only after you came, and the Stone Cutters formed, that things began to change."

"How so?" Shinji wondered.

"…for a motley band of students to not only beat a troll, but blow it to pieces – yes, I know the story – is hardly weak magic. Then of course, you and your friends fought a Dark Wizard who had beaten even the Defense Professor – and _won._ And that's not even going into how you all backed Professor Flitwick for Headmaster, or how _you_ took Granger to the Halloween Ball, showing all of Britain how you didn't give a damn about what we thought about the importance of blood," Pansy related bitterly. "You. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Stone Cutters. Lovegood. Everything the lot of you do flies in the face of everything we know."

"And why does that matter?" Shinji questioned archly, genuinely curious.

"Because it means that the world we cherish is built upon a web of lies. That the rules of the game we're taught to play are arbitrary. Meaningless," the girl sighed, shaking her head. "Pureblood. Muggleborn. What does it matter, really? I mean, the Ollivanders aren't _really_ purebloods. We just call them that because they're the best wandmakers in Britain, and we don't want to admit someone could be better. The Potters, well, they're not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, even though their lineage was pure enough to intermarry with the house of Black. The Weasleys, blood-traitors. But what does that even mean, Matou?"

"I don't know," Shinji replied, shaking his head. "Magical Britain isn't my world. Or my home. I didn't grow up here. In my own way, I'm just making my way through the world too."

"Were you always so strong?"

"No," the Boy from the East answered without a moment's hesitation, his face taking on a mask of resolve as he looked into the distance. "I come from a powerful family, but what path I walk is my own."

"…I've tried that, but I don't have another path to walk," Pansy murmured, looking upon her fellow third-year curiously. "I've never…been a girl who was happy sitting around. Waiting. I'm a Slytherin, you know? I want power. Power enough so I can live my own life, walk my own path, without being beholden to anyone else." Slowly, she looked around, taking in the sweep of the stadium. "At least not too much."

"I can respect that," Shinji said softly, turning towards her as their eyes met for the first time. After all, what she wanted was essentially what he wished as well, the impetus that had driven him to learn, to grow, to become more than he was – had ever dreamed he could be.

"Ah," the Slytherin breathed. The two were silent for a time as they just looked at each other, before Pansy gathered her courage and spoke. "Tell me, Matou. About Granger...are you actually serious about her or—"

"Ah, Parkinson, there you are!" a boisterous voice boomed from the other side of the pitch – the voice of Cedric Diggory, the head of the Self-Defense Club, with Pansy flinching back as if she'd been burned. Cedric blinked, looking between the two of them before shaking his head, as whatever was going on was none of his business. "And Matou too, I see."

"Prefect Diggory," Shinji greeted, bowing to the other slightly. "I'm glad you could make it. I would have assumed you'd be on your way to Hogsmeade with Miss Chang by now."

"Duty before pleasure, I'm afraid," Cedric replied, his expression neutral. "And I'm only staying for the opening of the first match anyway. What about yourself, Mister Matou?"

"I'm staying through all of them," Shinji answered frankly. "Pansy asked me to join her as commentator today, and I'd like to see how everyone is doing."

"Not to mention get a better sense of your competition for the Potions challenges," Cedric noted coolly. "Though I note you had no problems with the Stone Cutters being barred from competition matches in the Flag League."

Shinji shrugged eloquently.

"It wouldn't have been fair to everyone else, though I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to have an exhibition game at some point," the Boy from the East replied. "Maybe with you and some of the best performing team captains against the Stone Cutters."

" _That_ might be popular," Pansy agreed, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Especially if you were to captain one team and Potter another."

"…with you taking cuts from everyone to hold their bets?" Diggory asked sardonically, to which Pansy chuckled. "Well, if people want to bet, who am I to say otherwise? I'm assuming its going into the league budget?"

"…of course," Pansy replied after a beat. "Professor Lockhart was kind enough to make arrangements with Honeydukes for an end-of-season prize, but we can't assume that will be the case in future years."

"It's the year of corporate sponsorship at Hogwarts, it seems," Cedric said lightly. "First the Quidditch teams all get Nimbus 2001s courtesy of the Nimbus Racing broom company. And now, Honeydukes offering gift credit to high ranking teams in the league."

"I'll even throw in my limited edition Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card for the captain of the best team this year, as a show of faith," Shinji added, causing both of his peers to look at him oddly as he withdrew it from his mokeskin pouch and handed it to here. "Here you go, Pansy. Keep this safe, would you?"

"You're…trusting me with this?" Pansy wondered, as she took the card, one of only five like it in the world. "Why…?"

"You run the league, don't you?" Shinji asked reasonably, smiling at the girl. "Who else would I trust?"

Pansy swallowed.

"R-right you are, Matou," she replied, returning his smile hesitantly. "It will be good to see these seats filled today, and not divided by lines of house or year."

"Well, some of the seats," Cedric qualified. "Remember that many people _are_ going to Hogsmeade. But I actually agree with you. You've done a good job, Parkinson."

"Thanks."

And she had, really.

Seeing an opportunity for advancement, Pansy Parkinson had volunteered to head up the efforts to create the Capture the Flag League after it proved to be surprisingly popular among the club's attendees – and after the Defense Professor, Auror Shacklebolt, had taken an interest in it as a practical way to teach tactical thinking.

Talking with both Professor Lockhart and Headmaster Flitwick, she'd managed to get the basics rules of the league hammered out, such that teams were not divided by house or year, only by whether they wished to simply show off their skills or compete for the Honeydukes Cup.

She'd been nervous when she approached the Headmaster, but as it so happened, the former duelist heartily approved of the idea, signing off on the paperwork to establish the All-Hogwarts Capture the Flag League – and approving their request to use the Quidditch pitch on days it wasn't otherwise booked for games or practice, with the History Professor – and his representative Pansy Parkinson – left in charge of organizing the actual events.

"Nervous?" Cedric asked, with Pansy nodding slowly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked. "This is the first time anyone's tried to launch a new sport at Hogwarts. And this isn't Quidditch, after all."

"Heh." Cedric smiled, just a hint. "No, it's not. But that's part of the charm, really. And with some of the teams you have lined up today, it should be interesting. People do want to see how Malfoy will do against Longbottom."

"Or Luna against Mister Weasley," Shinji supplied, as the Hufflepuff Seeker nodded. "I heard Professor Lockhart obtained some robes for the teams? What do they look like?"

"Like the Quidditch robes, only in two colors, not four," Pansy replied. "He said it would make it easier for people to tell the players apart in the chaos."

"Oh, and which colors?" Cedric asked. "Red and Green? Blue and Yellow?"

"No," Pansy supplied, with her lips quirking into a small smile. "Red versus Blue."

* * *

"Welcome to the start of the official season of Capture the Flag!" A bright voice echoed through the stadium, as Cedric Diggory and the other Quidditch captains did a fly-by overhead, with plumes of colored smoke trailing from their broomsticks. "My name is Pansy Parkinson, coordinator of the All-Hogwarts Capture the Flag League, and joining me today is Matou Shinji, Stone Cutter, and Head of the Ourea."

"Thank you, Parkinson," Shinji's voice boomed across the crowd. "I'm glad to be here today, and delighted to see so many people turn out for our inaugural set of matches. Thank you, and special thanks to Miss Parkinson, Professors Shacklebolt and Lockhart, and Headmaster Flitwick, without which none of this would be possible."

"As a reminder, it's not too late to register as a competition team," Pansy's voice added. "Who knows, you might just get some extra credit in Defense if you do well."

"There's that, and of course, Honeydukes Cup, which includes not only fame, but over 100 galleons in gift credit from the famous sweets shop."

The field below had been changed quite a bit from the Quidditch pitch most knew, with hills, ravines, and more shooting through the ground, and two "bases" on each side, atop which were the two great flags of red and blue.

And as the commentators droned on, at least one of the teams was becoming restless.

"…get to the bloody point already," Ron Weasley growled, wand in his hand as he looked out over the field. "We're not here to hear you talk. We're here to win!"

"Hear, hear," Terry Boot chimed in, shaking his head. "They do like to hear the sound of their own voices, don't they?"

"Eh, it's the first game, let them talk," Dean Thomas grunted. "We might learn something interesting."

"Like what?"

But when Pansy's voice boomed over the crowd once more, her words this time caught Ron's full attention.

"For the captain of year's best-performing team, Matou is offering a very special prize – a limited edition, specially marked and numbered copy of the Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card."

"…wait, you mean the one all the Stone Cutters got?" Ron asked incredulously. "But there's only five of those in all of…"

"Well. This changes things," Lavender Brown added. "So, who are we facing? Malfoy or…?"

"Starting off the day is our first match – with Team Thunder Crash, led by Ronald Weasley, as Blue team, up against Team Snorkack's Red, led by—"

"Heh, you are telling me Loony Lovegood has a team?" Ron asked incredulously. "I wanted to face Malfoy, not…just be handed a victory."

After all, she was just starting her second year, and so shouldn't have the background of spells he did, not when he had picked up a few things from his brother. He gripped his wand – a 10 inch dogwood and dragon heartstring instrument he'd obtained after his original had been stolen by Black.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Seamus Finnegan spoke up. "She's one of the Ourea and has been known to spend time with that Matou fellow."

"Bah, just shows he's a bit barmy, too," Ron growled. "I mean, I faced Sirius Black and lived. What has she…?"

"Ron, please, we've heard this a hundred times already," his final teammate, Michael Corner, groaned. "I'm as open minded as the next person, but if you really faced him and lived, wouldn't the Stone Cutters have made you a member, since your brothers are members?"

Ron's expression soured. He would have thought they'd at least talk about it last year, but he couldn't remember that ever happening. This though – _this_ was his chance to prove himself, to show that he was worthy to stand among the greats of Hogwarts.

"Fine. Here's the plan. We're going to hit them fast and hard, before they can respond. All we have to do is paralyze them all, and there will be no one standing between us and the flag."

"Um, point of order," Lavender interjected. "What if they fight back?"

"They won't be able to," Ron smirked. "We'll start with _Lumos Maxima_ to blind them."

"Not a bad plan," Terry acknowledged. "But that only works once, and according to the rules, it's first to three points."

"Once is all we need. Once we have them off-balance, nothing will stop us."

Above, the commenters were finalizing the explanation for the audience.

"Today's matches will be six-on-six games of Capture The Flag. Points will be scored by teams capturing the enemy flag by physically taking it and running it to their base, with the first team to three points winning the match," Pansy explained. "And just in case you wanted to try, the flags cannot be summoned."

"…well, there goes my plan," Dean grumbled.

"Blue team, take your places!" Matou Shinji's voice boomed, as Ron Weasley and company marched out onto the pitch in their royal blue robes. "Red team, to your places."

In the distance, they could see a clump of red-robed individuals come onto the battlefield.

"Three. Two. One. Begin!" Matou Shinji cried, as the fliers above all cast _Verdimillious,_ and a shower of green sparks descended on the field below.

Moving as one, Blue Team strode forward, their wands pointed forward as they closed their eyes and cried out: " _Lumos Maxima!"_

Pure white light exploded from their wands, dazzling all caught by the gleam – yet when they opened their eyes, all they saw around them was murky grey smoke.

"Shit, they were ready."

"Dean, Seamus, blow away the smoke. Lavender, Terry, expose their positions. Michael, we're going to use _Flipendo Tria_ to pressure them so they can't cast."

" _Ventus_!"

" _Verdimillious!"_

" _Flipendo Tria!"_

A flurry of spells emerged, blowing away the smoke, as twin orbs of green shot forth into the murky expanse, detonating and leaving green sparks clinging to a lone humanoid form, as two whirlwinds of knockback curses made their way forward, bowling over and knocking out what appeared to be second year Gryffindor Colin Creevy.

"First Blood goes to Blue Team! Defender Colin Creevy falls."

And then there was silence.

The smokescreen was gone, and they didn't seen anyone else.

"…where'd they go?" Dean asked, suspicious, eyes scanning the field. "Are they hiding in a ravine, do you think?"

"Maybe," Ron said. "Let's advance cautiously, but quickly."

After all, their flag was still there, and if his opponents were so terrified by his onslaught, he could win this.

As one the team moved, looking for any signs of the enemy, and not finding any, even as they came to what looked like an abandoned base. Shrugging, he grabbed the flag and pulled it from its socket, breaking into a run to try to score.

"Blue Team has the flag!"

But his joy was short lived as a slight blonde form burst out of the ground before him and blasted him backwards with a Stunning Charm – a scene repeated around the field, albeit with different charms, like one person being lifted by their clothing with _Wingardium Leviosa_ and being used as a bludgeon to knock down the others.

"…Blue Team flag dropped. What a reverse – Team Snorkack hid themselves underground and ambushed Team Thunder Crash! Blue Team is down. I repeat, Blue Team is down for the count!"

And then a minute later came "Red Team has the Flag! Red team scores! Team Snorkack leads 1-0!"

Though they were revived after that, Team Thunder Crash's utter shock at the sudden reverse more or less set the pace for the rest of the match, with Team Snorkack going on to win the match 3-1, with Lavender Brown barely making that one point before the other team captured the flag the final time.

Afterwards, Ron was…rather stunned that Loony Lovegood of all people, and her band of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs had managed to defeat his team.

"At least it wasn't a blowout…" Dean growled. "Besides, we still get to face Team Malfoy later."

Terry laughed, despite himself.

"Leave it to Malfoy to name his team after himself. Think he'll be Red team? Those robes look almost exactly like the Gryffindor Quidditch robes."

"…he'd go spare, he would," Seamus chuckled. "Nice one, Lav. Quick thinking there."

"Luck was all it was," Lavender demurred, her cheeks a bit flushed. "But thanks. Didn't expect that of Loony though. How'd she learn the Stunning Spell?"

"Matou, probably," Seamus offered. "Even if he's dating Granger, they used to spend a lot of time together."

"Bloody Matou," Ron growled. "I'll show him."

"Then, we'd better win," Dean commented.

"Yeah…"

At least they had better luck later in the day, narrowly defeating Team Malfoy (3-2) and Team Highlander (3-2), but losing against Firespark (2-3). Malfoy won against Firespark (3-1) and Highlander (3-2), but lost to Snorkack.

Snorkack only lost once, against Team Firespark (2-3), captained by Ginny Weasley, in a particularly savage match that surprised the audience as Ginny Weasley took on her friend one on one.

Still, all in all, it was a great day, and even Ron felt better about himself. After all, he'd nailed Malfoy with _Melofors_ , encasing his old rival's head in a pumpkin, and though it _had_ been annoying to deal with the miniature dragons Malfoy had produced with _Draconifors,_ finally beating the git in something had been entirely worth it.

"Not bad, team," he told his comrades. "At least we're not last."

"Yeah, thank Merlin we managed to talk you out of calling us the Cannons."

"Hey," Ron said defensively. "They've just had bad luck."

"Yeah, for more than a hundred years!"

* * *

That night, after the various celebrations and other events, Matou Shinji made his way to the Room of Requirement, where he found the young girl laying amidst a field of flowers, looking at the sky, with her head adorned with white fox ears.

"Hullo Matou Shinji," she greeted, reaching a hand upwards as he entered.

"Hullo Luna," Shinji said in turn, smiling as walked over to her, reached down and took her hand, helping her to her feet – as he noticed she possessed her white tail once more. "You did well today."

"You watched," she murmured, her silver eyes looking unblinkingly into his, though she didn't quite let go of his hand.

"Of course I did," he replied wryly. "I was commentating, after all."

"I noticed," she answered in much the same tone. "It turned out well, I thought."

"For Team Snorkack certainly," Shinji rejoined. "Clever strategies you had."

"Well, you're good practice," Luna commented with an impish smile, as the boy's cheeks took on just a hint of pink. "And people tend to underestimate 'Loony Lovegood.'"

"Not that you're actually Loony," the Boy from the East noted, harrumphing. "And they won't after today, you know."

"Good. It's more fun that way," Luna replied, squeezing her companion's hand for a moment before she let go. "Shall we go on our walk?"

"Alright."

* * *

Leaving the castle that night took a little bit of doing, at least for Matou Shinji, who didn't have the benefit of being able to turn invisible at a moment's notice. All he had was a set of potions, and invisibility potions were, after all, disposable, but they would well enough. Still, what Luna had mentioned about spiders and their other senses worried him…

A colony of possibly hundreds of giant spiders was something he might need a bit of help tackling – and so he contacted Harry via house-elf.

"What do you need, Shinji?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked as Kizzy materialized him in the Founder's Tower.

"I'm going to the Forbidden Forest. I need you to come with me."

"Now?" Harry questioned. "And why?"

"Have you heard of Acromantulas?" Shinji asked, as Harry nodded warily. "Luna said she found a colony of them, and that some of their scouts are coming closer to the castle."

"But how…? Acromantulas are native to Borneo," the Boy-Who-Lived uttered, frowning. "And what was Luna doing there?"

"It's a long story," Shinji replied. "I don't have time to go into it now. I just need you to come with me and watch my back, while I watch hers."

"Of course you'd be watching _hers…"_ Harry mumbled, but nodded and held up his hand. "But well, if you trust her, I trust you. Should I bring my Cloak?"

"Please. I don't know what we'll find there," the Boy from the East answered, as Harry nodded. "Just like first year and the Third Floor Corridor."

"…let's hope it doesn't end the same way."

"I don't know about you, but I don't think it's a good day to die, do you, Luna?" Shinji remarked.

"No, I don't think so either," Luna's voice commented from seemingly out of nothingness. "Not yet anyway."

"Well, that's a good attitude to have," Harry noted. "We don't need any more empty chairs."

"No…no we don't," Shinji grunted. "Your glasses still have room to record, right?"

"Yes…?"

"Good. If we don't get anything else, that will be proof enough."

* * *

Without incident, they managed to slip out of the castle into the night, heading towards the by-now familiar location of the Forbidden Forest. Neither Harry nor Shinji had gone beyond the labyrinthine expanse that Snape and Sprout had set up, though both of them felt this was about to change, as Luna made her way deeper and deeper into the forest, with the almost invisible form of Zelkova tracking her for Shinji – and Harry following Shinji by use of the _Homenum revelio_ charm.

It was dark, with only a sliver of the moon left in the sky, but the going was easy enough at first, as there was an overgrown trail to follow.

They didn't speak, barely breathed at all as they tried to step quietly, listening for hard for noises other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the trees had become thicker than ever, so that the stars overhead were no longer visible, under the weathered treetops, rough and weathered from years of exposure to the elements, they paused.

"Which way, Luna?" Shinji asked quietly.

As if in reply, a small, warm hand closed around his, tugging him forward for a moment before letting go.

Shinji grunted in acknowledgement and moved in the direction indicated, his eyes trying to make sense of the pitch-black before him.

' _Zelkova, is there anything dangerous nearby?'_

' _Not yet, but something passed by here only about half an hour ago. Something large.'_

' _Is it safe to use a light?'_

' _I do not believe so. Allow me to be of assistance, Master…'_

A moment later, his vision seemed to be overlaid by vague outlines and impressions of tree roots and tree stumps all around the ground. So Zelkova had the ability to sense other trees and such – that was handy, since Shinji couldn't see at all otherwise.

Harry of course, was still following, mirroring Shinji's movements.

Soon enough the ground began to slope downwards, though the trees were as thick as ever, with the three continuing – until they heard a sound that wasn't of them. A skittering, scuttling sound of many legs moving.

And then it was joined by something worse.

"Meat. _Fressssh meat._ But where…?" came a whisper from above, as the skittering came closer.

' _Look out!'_

That wasthe only warning he had before he felt something long and hairy seize him around the middle and lift him off the ground, so that he was hanging facedown, and begin to withdraw up into the trees—only to drop him unceremoniously to the forest floor moment later with an inhuman scream as an orb of blue flame blasted forward, revealing an immense eight-legged creature with a thick, hairy carapace.

' _A giant spider.'_

' _Bounded field now, Zelkova!'_ he ordered, as he lay down ofuda of warding to separate the area in which they fought from the area outside, obscuring all sounds – just as a powerful barrier flashed into existence above, preventing the creature's ascension and escape.

He lashed out with a silent _Stupefy_ , attempting to incapacitate the creature without doing too much damage to it, but though the jet of red light slammed into the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, it had no effect.

For all the good his wand spell had done, he might as well have hit it with a stiff breeze.

"Feel free to use verbal spells. They can't hear us outside my barrier," Shinji barked, with the arachnid, hearing his location more than seeing it, lunged forward, its eight black eyes shining with rage, razor-sharp pincers poised to rip him apart – only to be pinned in place by pain as orbs of foxfire ripped through its abdomen with a hiss of burning tissue.

In utter agony, the spider loosed a ghastly scream, and moved to lash out again, before Harry tossed his cloak aside, brandishing his wand like a sword.

" _Sectumsempra,"_ the Boy-Who-Lived intoned, slashing down, down, down as deep cuts appeared on the joints of the spider's legs. The creature jumped backwards, hoping to avoid the damage, but it was futile - one by one, its injured legs were fully severed by judicious application of blue flames.

"Useful spell that," Shinji admitted, as he pointed his cherry and worm wand at the arachnid and tapped into the power of the darkness sleeping within, as a cloud of acrid darkness flowed from his wand over the spider, _blinding_ it as it melted its eyes away, and further seeped into the gaping wound left by the foxfire.

Slash. Slash. Slash.

Soon enough, all that was left before them was a limbless form bleeding out on the ground around it, with Shinji bringing both his wands to bear and silencing the creature, as he'd had enough of its screams.

"I'll finish this," he intoned, and with a wave of his hand, a number of earth ofuda surrounded the limbless thing's form, with spikes of stone piercing the creature through from below, one after another, until at last it lay still. "You get that recorded, Harry?"

"…I don't believe it," Harry growled, seeming rather upset for the first time in a while. "What is one of these monsters doing _here?"_

"I don't know, but if Luna is right, it's not alone," Shinji replied. "Nice spell, by the way. Learned it from Snape?"

"He's been teaching me a thing or two," Harry admitted. "Same with your _ofuda."_

"I try. Have to thank Luna though. Without her, it would have gotten me."

"You watch my back enough. I might as well watch yours."

Was there a hint of teasing in Luna's reply, or was he only imagining it?

"Well, thanks. How far is the colony from here?" he asked, while his sound wards were still up.

"Not too much further," Luna answered. "We should probably move on fairly soon, before any more find us."

"Let's harvest the fangs and venom first," Harry suggested. "That, more than anything else, will serve as proof of what we saw here tonight."

"…plus you can sell it for 100 galleons a pint, right?" Shinji commented dryly.

"…are you honestly going to turn down a possible 800 galleons or so?" Harry shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"…if you put it that way, no."

 _Sectumsepra_ made short work of extracting the fangs and venom sacks, which Shinji placed into one of his spare mokeskin pouches before they pressed on, though they took care to reapply their distinct forms of invisibility first.

Shinji didn't know how much longer he walked, only that after what might have been another 20 minutes or maybe only five, the darkness lifted enough for him to see the leaf-strewn ground was now swarming with spiders…and that he was at the ridge of a vast hollow.

Here, the trees had been cleared away, and the stars shone brightly on the worst scene he had ever laid eyes on.

Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below. Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic. Or bigger.

And in the center of the hollow was a misty, domed web, with a veritable wall of spiders clicking away in the distance, their many eyes gleaming in their ugly black heads.

"Are you seeing this, Harry?" Shinji asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

Harry said something under his breath that Shinji figured had to be a curse of some kind.

"…that is a _lot_ of spiders," he growled. "We're going to need more wands if we're going to eliminate all of them."

"Well, don't you have the Stone Cutters?" Luna interjected, as Shinji and Harry mulled over the idea of having the Stone Cutters lead an extermination campaign, and thought it might just work.

Fred and George _would_ love something like this, as they were itching for action.

Even Hillard might.

The last great adventure they would all embark on together.

…though Shinji imagined that he'd have to look into procuring protective equipment of some kind for the group, since otherwise, Acromantula venom could be quite damaging. And while dealing with one had been doable enough – dealing with several, dozens, hundreds?

That required something else entirely, though at least he had an idea of what to get his comrades for Christmas.

 _'This could get expensive - I don't think the Room will have what I need, though I could always check...'_

"I would say burn them out, but that risks burning down the forest," Shinji whispered. "And I worry there could be more than just spiders in there."

"Let's not do that," Harry replied, his smile fixed and brittle. "Besides, if we just burn them, we won't be able to collect any of the venom – and I don't think any of us have fire spells strong enough to really hurt them badly, except maybe you Luna, whatever spell that was. We're all in this together, I guess. And Luna, provided the others agree, welcome to the Stone Cutter Society."

"I, for one, agree entirely, but first, let's get out of here," Shinji said, speaking for the group. "We don't know if or when they'll notice their missing fellow, and I don't want to be here if they do."

"Good thinking," Harry noted. "Let's go."

As stealthily as they could, they withdrew the same way they came, with Luna taking Matou's hand and guiding him along while Harry followed, making sure there was no pursuit.

"Should we patrol again another night?" she asked quietly, just loud enough for Shinji to hear. "Maybe not as far afield this time."

"That might be good," Shinji affirmed. "If something like that gets into the labyrinth, that would be quite bad. Let's do it then. Together."

"Mm. Together is good."


	19. Completely Hypothetical

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 19.** _Completely Hypothetical_

"Dragonhide, I find, is often more trouble than it is worth," Lockhart replied as he circled the blindfolded form of Matou Shinji, who was going through a series of movement exercises without the benefit of sight. "Both when it comes to expense and attention."

"Oh?" Shinji questioned, leaning aside as he dodged a bolt of white light that would have clipped his shoulder.

The History Professor had decided that he was to advance beyond simply evading enemies, and had programmed the _Book of Spells_ to create some kind of apparatus which launched stinging spells, which he'd have to dodge by sound alone.

…something which was trickier than it seemed, given that Lockhart also liked to _talk_ while these sessions were going on, and insisted that Shinji keep up his end of the conversation, keeping him from focusing entirely on the exercise. Worse, the experienced adventurer's information was _useful_ , too, so he couldn't just tune out his mentor's voice.

 _Fzzt! Fzzt!_

Shinji ducked low as incandescent bolts tore through the space his head had occupied.

' _Two at once?'_

"You seemed to be doing well enough with one, so I increased the difficulty," Lockhart explained, in answer to the boy's unasked question, with Shinji barely stifling a curse.

' _Calm. Have to stay calm. He wants me to get angry. To lose my cool. I won't.'_

"Self-control is important, Matou," the adventurer continued, raising an eyebrow. "You cannot always control the battlefield, but you can control how you react. If you lose yourself to anger, the options you have shrink."

 _Fzzt!_

Shinji sidestepped a bolt coming at him from above, which dissipated harmlessly on the stone below.

"You were talking about dragonhide, sir?" he asked, stretching out his senses for any hint of prana discharge – difficult in the environment around him – or for the sound of a spell moving through air, since these weren't silent.

"Indeed I was," Lockhart affirmed, continuing to circle the room. "There's no denying that it can be quite a useful material for protective equipment, given its physical durability and its ability to repel most spells. However, quality dragonhide is hard to come by in the quantity one would need for a coat or robe, making the price…prohibitive to most."

Shinji frowned, jumping into the air, as a bolt passed though the space his knees had occupied, with the other blocked by his gloved hand.

Speaking of gloves…

"…I thought each student had to buy wyv—dragonhide gloves as part of their required supplies?" Shinji questioned, grimacing at his slip of the tongue. Nevertheless, wyvern-hide items _had_ been on his list of required supplies from his first year. He didn't really have cause to wear them anymore, since the fine, black gloves his Master had made for him were far more useful, but…

"Wyvern, you say?" Lockhart supplied, his expression quite curious as he studied the boy, and _three_ bolts of white light barked through the air, with Shinji diving forward and rolling out of the way of two of them – only for a third to clip his shoulder.

' _Ughh…that hurt…'_

It felt like the joint had become stiff and unresponsive, but Shinji pushed aside the pain as he regained his footing.

"Slip of the tongue," he grunted.

"If you say so, Matou," the Professor replied in a tone that implied he didn't really believe the boy, but would let it go for now. "As for the gloves, they are common things made of pieced-together scraps of discarded dragon-skin." Lockhart shook his head dismissively. "The dragonhide I speak of is not this cheap refuse, but hide skinned from the bodies of dragons that have been slain or that die of old age in one of our preserves."

"Ah," Shinji noted, his hands sweeping out to block two stinging hexes as he jumped to avoid a third, beads of sweat gathering on his brow from his exertions.

That _would_ explain why they were hard to come by, as he'd seen a wyvern up close, and knew that a creature's form had a power all of its own. Even if a creature wasn't a _proper_ dragon, things that shared their form tended to share some of their power as well...

"How…is it…normally used then?" he asked, fighting to keep his breath under his control, to keep his body's rhythms stable. "Does the Ministry…buy up the available dragonhide to make equipment for their Aurors and agents?"

"Heh, not at all," the Professor replied instantly, his voice taking on a hint of disdain for the first time. "It would not be practical, as there is not enough quality dragonhide for more than a handful of well-designed garments each year, if that. It would take years to acquire enough to outfit the entire Auror force, and cost quite a bit more than the price of hiring an additional few Hit Wizards or so, to boot."

"It's an issue of…money, then?" Shinji asked, throwing himself flat to avoid three bolts that targeted his center of mass – and the equivalent position to the right and left of him, had he leapt aside.

"And image," Lockhart answered. "What the Ministry relies on to stay in power, more than anything else, is an appearance of confidence and competence, and their Aurors are considered the elite of the elite, given how hard it is to become one and the rigor of their training. If they were to equip their forces with dragonhide gear, spending public funds on that, it would be interpreted as the Ministry no longer believing their training was sufficient. Or of course that it was preparing for war, which would terrify the public, since it has only been about a decade since the last one – one they surely would have lost if not for the Boy-Who-Lived."

The assassin chuckled then, though there was very little mirth in the sound.

"So no, it is private citizens who commission coats of dragonhide, usually as status symbols for themselves," Lockhart commented dryly. "After all, the same properties that make dragonhide so coveted also mean that it cannot be magically tailored, repaired, or enchanted, unlike an equivalent garment of cloth, and that specialized tools are required to work it."

"I see…" Shinji noted, spinning aside to block one, then another stinging hex, his right arm hanging heavy and useless. He supposed that _would_ make the material a fair bit more expensive, given there was none of the automation one could expect from witchcraft spells, and even wyvern-hide could be damaged, eventually. "Are there alternatives?"

"Indeed," Lockhart replied. "There are suits of armor, but those tend to be unwieldy and altogether too noticeable, whether one makes them out of metal or some exotic substance like the carapace of an Acromantula. And no one these days makes armor anyway. Enchanted cloth is a more versatile option, given the number of effects one can add to them, such as protection against the elements, charms of concealment, or such, but that requires someone willing and able to make such equipment, with quality greatly varying depending on the skill of both tailor and enchanter." He sighed discontentedly, shaking his head. "In Britain, sadly, the most common types one will see are beautifying robes, which enhance the appearance of the wearer through magic much as the Beautification potion does, or self-ironing robes. Hardly suitable for an adventurer, wouldn't you agree?"

"Mm," the Boy from the East noted. Shinji remembered there had been more combat-minded options at _Mahoutokoro,_ with robes featuring enchantments against an assortment of offensive spells, as well as the omamori amulets which were powerful, if temporary, items that could ward against evil or provide a blessing of some sort.

' _Speaking of which, I'll need to retrieve Harry's before winter break, so I can return it to Hijiri – it is only good for a year anyway.'_

And of course, his current robes woven of the silk of giant spiders, were enchanted to grow with him, so—

His thoughts slammed to a halt as he recalled what his clothing was made of.

'… _spider silk. Was_ that _why the spider went after me? Because it thought I had already been wrapped up by another spider and was ready to eat?'_

So shocked was he to realize this that he failed to dodge another bolt, which slammed into his knee, immobilizing the joint and sending him sprawling to the ground.

"That's enough," Lockhart commented, casting a _Finite_ on the boy and ending the simulation, whereupon they found themselves back in the man's office. He helped the boy to his feet and removed the blindfold, shaking his head. "You grow distracted, Matou. And you were doing so well before."

"…I'll do better next time," Shinji said grudgingly, looking down. What could he say, after all? He _had_ been hit, and had fallen to the ground. Bereft of his _ofuda_ or his wand, he felt rather helpless, and more than a little upset. He should have done better, _needed_ to do better. If this had been a life and death battle…

…well, then he'd be dead, and that's all there was too it.

"See that you do," the Professor noted dispassionately. "To finish answering your question, the best option for protective gear really depends on what you need protection _from_ , now doesn't it? Spells, environmental hazards, magical beasts – each of these alone can be handled with something simple, albeit different, though more is needed if you desire something more…comprehensive."

Shinji frowned, not having considered the intricacies of what protection meant in this case. But he imagined Lockhart probably knew what he was talking about, since he was renowned as an adventurer, after all.

"Let's say I wanted something more…comprehensive," he said carefully, not wanting to reveal too much. Still…"And that cost was no issue."

Gilderoy Lockhart raised a curious eyebrow at this.

"Assuming you wanted to equip the Stone Cutters with something more versatile, that you knew a reputable maker, and cost truly was no issue, I would go with a layered set," the assassin answered after a moment. "Close to the skin, one would wear garments of enchanted cloth with enchantments for physical protection and concealment. On top of that, one would wear a dragonhide robe for an added measure of magical protection, one designed with a hood and a plate to provide protection for the neck. And on top of that, depending on your combat style, you would likely want some kind of belt for you to carry a potions satchel or other…tools."

Shinji blinked at the specificity of the Professor's recommendation. It was as if he'd thought about the question in detail before - which he probably had, and was almost expecting him to ask.

"And if I had to source everything in Britain?"

Lockhart frowned and shook his head.

"Well, in that case, you would have to make do with a dragonhide robe," he replied with a shrug. "In the event that you were going on some kind of adventure in the near future and needed some kind of protection from things like, oh, trolls, dark wizards, or the like. Not that you'd have any need for them near Hogwarts I'm sure."

"I'm sure," Matou Shinji noted dispassionately, rubbing his sore muscles. He paused, considering whether or not to press on with this line of conversation, given how much Lockhart had probably deduced, but decided it couldn't hurt. "I don't suppose you'd have such a design for the robe on hand? Just for reference, of course."

"Of course, Matou. For reference," Lockhart echoed, a grim smile crossing his lips as the man walked over to his desk. Opening one of his books, a volume entitled _On War_ , by a Carl von Clausewitz, he withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to the boy. "Here you go. Just something I happened to create in my spare time. Nothing to be taken seriously."

"Right," Shinji said, taking the sheet of paper and unfolding it to see a detailed pattern for a protective robe, with the very features the man had mentioned. Actually, it was a two-layered garment, with a robe over a tunic and trousers that were noticeably reinforced at the wrist and neck area. The robe itself would be colored charcoal grey, with the shape of the hood and head reminding him of an eagle for some reason. The wrists and neck of course, were reinforced, with the design calling for what appeared to be two wand-holsters, and twin belts – a red belt of fabric for style – and because one could never have too much rope – and a leather belts for mokeskin pouches for equipment. "This is…"

"Oh, nothing to be taken seriously," Lockhart said dismissively. "In any case, if you would put that back when you are finished with it, I find that I quite tired and ready to retire for the evening. Don't get yourself into too much trouble, understood, Matou?"

"Ah, of course, Professor," Shinji said with a slight bow. "Have a good night."

'… _somehow I think he's giving this to me without explicitly saying he's giving it to me, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.'_

* * *

Shortly thereafter, Matou Shinji, joined the other Stone Cutters in the Founders' Tower, though he had first taken pains to change into his most tasteful and elegant garments – all of black spider silk, at the direction of the Boy-Who-Lived, the nominal head of the organization.

One by one, they arrived, each in their most formal dress robes, having been summoned by the house-elf Kizzy. While there would have been small amount of banter or levity, or even questions about why they were asked to dress up, the serious look on Harry's face put paid to that. They'd seen it before in first year, during the meeting in which Quirrell's involvement with releasing the troll into the castle and his intent to steal the Philosopher's Stone had been revealed, and so knew that what was about to happen would shape their course for the rest of the year.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I've called you here tonight," Harry began, as soon they had taken their seats. "Not Shinji, of course, he knows. But the rest of you."

"The thought—"

"—had crossed our minds," the Twins replied, with Hillard simply motioning for the Boy-Who-Lived to continue, as he imagined Harry would get to the point soon enough.

"There's a saying that pictures are worth a thousand words," Harry noted with a sigh, fiddling with something on the side of his glasses. "So instead of telling you, let me show you. _Engage playback_. Video. Last night."

The Stone Cutters watched in silence as a moving picture was projected into the air before the Boy-Who-Lived, displaying the events of Luna, Shinji, and Harry's adventure in the woods.

"…the Forbidden Forrest, Harry?" Hillard asked, though his eyes narrowed as the picture showed Matou being snatched into the air by a dark shape – and then dropped, with the identity of what had ambushed the group being revealed. "Is that…"

"Yes," Shinji confirmed, frowning. " _That_ …was an Acromantula."

"Merlin's saggy—"

"—left nut!"

"How—"

"—did you survive?" the twins chorused, with both Shinji and Harry raising their eyebrows at this display of synchronized cursing.

"And what is one of _those_ doing near Hogwarts?" Hillard all but demanded, his face a mask of incredulity and shock. "I know the Forest is home to trolls, but Acromantula aren't native to these parts. We're not even taught about them in Defense."

"Just watch," Harry said tightly, so watch they did, as the spider was felled by fire, earth, and Harry's sword-like slashes.

There was a moment of silence as the Boy-Who-Lived paused playback, but it was quickly enough shattered by questions.

"That...was impressive," Hillard admitted. "You and Matou have both gotten far better since first year. And I assume that Lovegood was the one using whatever those fireballs were. Interesting that they could hurt the creature so when one of Matou's wand spells couldn't penetrate its shell. Speaking of spells, Matou, I'm interested in how you were able to conjure those spikes of earth – your Eastern Arts, I expect?"

Shinji simply nodded.

"Indeed," he noted solemnly. "I needed a way to deal to creatures who resisted spells beyond just throwing _ofuda_ at it, like I did with the troll. Or throwing potions down its throat, since I'm not Sokaris. As for Luna, she and I trained together this summer."

"Ah yes. She was—"

"—in Japan," the Weasleys said appraisingly. "So why not—"

"—just burn—"

"—the spider?"

"I'm glad you asked," Harry said, turning to Shinji. "You still have the fangs?"

"I do," Shinji noted, as he withdrew the items in question from his mokeskin pouch, along with now-deflated venom sacs and 9 pint-sized phials containing a strange liquid. "And the venom I extracted from them. Nasty stuff. Makes me glad I had these gloves."

"Acromantula venom," Harry explained, as the others looked at the collection of items curiously. "A rare and expensive substance that goes for 100 galleons a pint."

As an orphan who had never had much money until he came to Hogwarts. For over a decade, he'd lived with hand-me-downs, secondhand things, nothing he could really call his own. He'd lived in a cupboard under the stairs, with the Dursleys more or less indifferent to him. For allowance, he'd gotten 50 pence each Christmas, perhaps? And even though he had seen the heaps of gold in his vault at Gringotts – it didn't really feel real to him, since he'd never really been back since.

He'd resolved to become a hero, but the enforced poverty of those years still haunted him. And this, _this_ was a chance to profit while being a hero.

"Did you say—"

"—100 galleons—"

"—a pint?" the twins asked, their eyes bright with interest. Like Harry, the Weasley family knew poverty intimately, even in a society where there no one should want, with their parents sometimes having to make ends meet from what seemed like nothing at all. Until they had received the Order of Merlin, that was the life they knew – the life that for all they knew, they were doomed to after Hogwarts.

Even now, as Stone Cutters, something like this caught their interest.

"I did," Harry supplied. "So that is about 900 galleons on the table before you."

…which worked out to about 4500 British pounds, or 9000 US Dollars at the time.

"…I assume there's more than just one Acromantula, then?" Hillard noted calmly, blinking at the wealth on the table.

"Yes, you could certainly say that," Shinji replied. "Harry, if you would?"

The Boy-Who-Lived obliged, and the Stone Cutters watched on in horror as the trio stumbled upon a vast hollow in the forest, a hollow full of spiders the size of carthorses – or bigger.

That was the image Harry chose to end on, leaving the others stunned into silence by the horror of a colony of these beasts near Hogwarts.

"…why hasn't someone already done something about this? Something like that doesn't happen in a year. Or a handful of years." Hillard was the first to find his voice, and he was _not_ happy at all. In fact, he was angrier than anyone in the room had ever seen him, his voice cold as ice as he considered the ramifications of a _colony_ being at Hogwarts. "Surely in all that time, the Professors would have…" He trailed off, remembering that most of the professors probably had known nothing about the Philosopher's Stone incident. "Or at the least the groundskeeper, Hagrid…" He trailed off again, shaking his head. "Well, suffice it to say that either the staff is more incompetent than I am willing to admit, or _someone_ on staff brought them here and has been sheltering these _monsters_. Its bloody Quirrell all over again."

"So this—"

"—is something—"

"—we should take care of—"

"—Harrikins?" the twins asked, curious. They had had no idea things like _these_ lurked in the Forbidden Forrest, but did want to know if they would measure up against this threat.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, meeting the eyes of each of his comrades. "But first I would like to induct a new member into our society. The person who discovered this threat, who led us to the heart of the infestation, who fought by our side."

"Luna Lovegood?" Hillard asked.

"Luna Lovegood," Shinji confirmed, rising to his feet. "Any objections?"

But there were none.

"If you two speak for her, I will not gainsay that," Hillard answered. "Especially not after the scene I saw of what happened. You say she discovered this...hollow before? Alone?"

Shinji nodded.

"A brave soul then, and one with secrets of her own," the _de facto_ leader of the group noted. "I will second your nomination then."

"As—"

"—will we," the Twins chimed in. "We are—"

"—curious as to—"

"—how she stayed invisible, among other things."

"I assume you plan to use the method we discussed, given that we're all in formal robes?" Hillard questioned, receiving a nod from Harry. "Ah, jolly good then. And all the members have been notified, including Peeves?"

Harry grimaced at that, but nodded again.

"He mentioned that he would bring the ghosts with him for a bit of music when we were ready," the Boy-Who-Lived replied. "Something about a new member being worth a bit of pomp and circumstance."

"…not that we disagree—"

"—but does Peeves mean it—"

"—or is he going to prank us?" the Twins asked, both of them fixing Harry with a stare.

"Well, only one way to find out, right?" Shinji asked, hoping that the poltergeist had meant what he said.

"You will stand for her, on our behalf?" Harry asked of his friend, as Shinji bowed low.

"Of course, Harry," the Matou scion declared. "It would be my pleasure."

"Then descend the stairs, Matou Shinji," Harry announced formally, gesturing to the door. "And send the signal when you are ready."

Shinji did as he was bade, descending the stairs to the base of the tower and signaling Kizzy, the house-elf that it was _time_. With a _crack,_ the house-elf appeared, along Luna Lovegood and her fox. The girl was radiant, dressed in the outfit she had worn to the Halloween Ball, a beautiful white dress with vine-like traceries of silver and pale blue, with her head adorned with a crown of something like small twigs, and leaves woven into her hair.

"Thank you, Kizzy," Shinji intoned, bowing to the house elf, who nodded and promptly vanished to alert the waiting ghosts. With that part of his duty finished, the Boy from the East turned to Luna and bowed deeply to her as well. "Luna. You look lovely tonight."

"As do you, Matou Shinji," the girl replied, curtseying to the Stone Cutter, her wide silver eyes looking into his. "It is time then?"

"It is," Shinji answered, taking her hand and raising it to his lips, as her cheeks colored rosily. With a gentle smile, he released it, and instead offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"

Wordlessly, she nodded, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as they began ascending the spiral staircase together, towards the room where the other Stone Cutters awaited.

"Nervous?" he asked quietly, glancing over to the girl beside him.

"Not with you by my side," Luna answered dreamily, catching Shinji's eye and giving him a dazzling smile that brought a hint of color to his cheeks.

"You flatter me."

"No. I only speak the truth," the blonde said, squeezing his arm ever so slightly, as they continued to walk. And as they walked side by side, they saw the spectral forms of the Hogwarts' ghosts – nearly all of them, from what they could tell – stream through the walls of the Tower and up along the stairs past them to the great chamber upstairs, led by a little man with wickedly slanted orange eyes and outlandish clothes: Peeves the Poltergeist.

"I'm surprised he came," Shinji remarked. "Even if he is a Stone Cutter, after a fashion."

"Oh?" Luna questioned, eyes curious and watchful.

"He was there at the beginning, when we slew the troll," he explained, thinking back to that desperate battle. "And he's been an ally of sorts ever since."

"Mm." The blonde said nothing, as they continued up and up and up, coming at last to the threshold of tower's great chamber – whereupon music began to play – a song they both knew well. "How nice. This is from _A Midsummer Night's Dream."_

"…yes, yes it is," Shinji replied, though he didn't know if it truly was. He knew the tune, certainly, since this particular piece of incidental music, composed by the great Felix Mendelssohn for a production of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ was indeed known around the globe. But it wasn't because the play was famous, no. It was because the song was perhaps _the_ most famous wedding march in the world, making it quite apparent to him that Peeves had not come to honor the Stone Cutters, but to embarrass the two of them instead, showing that the poltergeist had not abandoned his shifty ways.

'… _one of these days, I am going to kill Peeves…'_

But that day was not today, and he was determined not to do anything that might ruin the specialness of the moment for Luna, so he simply walked on as if there was nothing wrong, proceeding through a chamber lined with ghostly musicians with his companion by his side, until he reached the very front of it, where the Stone Cutters were waiting, and came to a halt before his brethren.

"My fellow Stone Cutters," the voice of Harry Potter intoned as the music grew mercifully softer. "We are gathered here today to induct a new member into our Society, an endeavor not to be undertaken unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. Before us stand two persons – Luna Lovegood, the Aspirant to the Society, and Matou Shinji, our valiant brother-in-arms who stands on her behalf."

The green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived took in the form of his friend and the girl beside him, with her hand still tucked in the crook of Shinji's shoulder and shook his head.

"My brothers-in-arms, do you have any objections or cause to speak against the induction of Luna Lovegood?" Harry questioned. There were none, of course – not even from Peeves, who had had his moment of levity. Had there been any, this ceremony would not have been held to begin with. "Then, Matou Shinji, Stone Cutter and Commander of the Ourea, do you affirm the skill and character of Luna Lovegood – that she is capable of standing with us as a comrade?"

"I do," Shinji intoned, giving a slight, barely perceptible nod.

"Do you personally attest to her courage and honor, as a warrior – and a friend?"

"I do."

"And do you, as our comrade, desire that Luna Lovegood stand beside us, becoming one of our number, to be entrusted with our secrets and our lives, as we will be entrusted with hers?"

"I do," Shinji repeated for a third and final time, as three was a very powerful number in heraldry and magic.

"Very well," the Boy-Who-Lived intoned, as he turned to Luna Lovegood, quietly impressed by how she looked completely at ease despite the formality of it all. "Luna Lovegood, you have heard the affirmation of our comrade-in-arms. As aspirant to the title of Stone Cutter, do you pledge that you will stand with us as comrade and friend?"

"I do," the girl answered, her voice clear in the sudden quiet.

"Do you pledge to share with us in the duties and trials of our Society, to keep safe our secrets as we will keep yours, and to be loyal to the Society above all other organizations?"

"I do."

"And do you, aspirant, pledge your wand and magic to our cause, vowing that you will walk beside us, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in glory and defeat – even should we march into the valley of death itself?" Harry asked, his voice trembling as he asked this last, final question.

Luna paused for a moment, her eyes glancing over at Matou Shinji, before she looked back to Harry.

"I do," she said for a third and final time, in a tone that brooked no argument.

There was silence for a long moment as the head of the Stone Cutter Society and its aspirant looked at each other, before Harry grunted and nodded.

"Then as leader of our Society and the first among equals, it is my privilege to pronounce you, Luna Lovegood, as one of our comrades in name as well as truth, with all the rights, privileges, and duties thereof," the Boy-Who-Lived intoned, bowing deeply to both Luna and Shinji. "Welcome, Stone Cutter."

Shinji bowed in return, as Luna curtseyed, her hand finally dropping from his arm, and the other Stone Cutters clapped.

"Welcome, Miss Lovegood," Hillard greeted with a smile. "I must say, I have been looking forward to this. It is an honor to induct a new member into our Society."

"And a lovely maiden—"

"—as well!" the twins commented.

"Before we celebrate, shall we finish our business?" Harry asked, as the ghostly musicians played on. When the others nodded, he continued. "Thanks to your discovery, Miss Lovegood, we stand once more at a precipice. There is an Acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest, which threatens the safety of every student who ventures from these walls. It falls to us to end this threat."

"This isn't something we can do recklessly," Hillard pointed out. "A single spider was one thing. A nest of hundreds is entirely another. In order to have a chance of success we need more than just courage. We need a plan, we need information, and we need some way to protect ourselves from our enemies."

"I will handle the matter of protective garments," Shinji interjected, smiling thinly. "I think I have a lead on something that might prove useful."

"Oh?" Hillard questioned.

"Well, I am being trained by Britain's greatest adventurer," the Boy from the East pointed out. "And I have access to…various funds."

'… _and possible dragonhide coats as raw material, or trade-in material in the Room of Hidden Things.'_

"…good point," the Head Boy conceded, nodding. "Very well then. Weasleys – and Harry – could I ask you to brew a number of healing potions for us, in case of injury? I have a feeling this will be a more drawn out campaign than usual."

"We can—"

"—do that."

"It will be—"

"—good practice!"

"Good," Hillard noted. "Luna, could you create a map for us of where these spiders might be, relative to the school and the Forest as a whole."

"Of course," the girl in white acknowledged. "I had planned to go on patrol and scout the area with Matou's help anyway. The night is a good time for a walk in the woods."

"…no doubt," the Head Boy said, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "And I will study up on Acromantulas and see what I can do about coming up with a plan. I will also look into the prospect of getting buy-in from one Professor, if it is necessary."

"Well, here's a free tip," Shinji pointed out. "If anyone has spider silk robes or clothes, don't wear them when scouting." He looked a bit sheepish at that. "That's why the spider attacked me…" he added more quietly. "If it wasn't for Luna…"

"I just did what Matou would have done if I was caught," Luna answered. "And he killed the spider, after all."

"Huh…it's a good thing I wasn't wearing my spider silk clothes then," Harry muttered. Being woken up late in the night, he'd thrown on some of his older castoffs, not his finery – and apparently this had saved him. "Nice tip, but it means I might need another wardrobe."

"…I'm sure I can come up with something," Shinji replied wryly. "If that's all…?"

"Then let us celebrate," Harry agreed, turning away as he directed the House Elf Kizzy to bring a bit of food and set up the room. "After all, we should have a feast to welcome our new member. And maybe we can all share a bit about ourselves."

"Mm, I'd like that," Luna said, as she leaned back against Shinji, who reached out and steadied her shoulders. She glanced up at the Matou, and continued on, a bit more quietly. "After that we can go on our walk, since knowledge is power, right?"

"Right you are, Stone Cutter," Shinji responded, his lips curving into a smile. "Let's join the others, shall we? Kizzy is bringing us some special treats, with recipes we've all pitched in on."

"…well, as long as it's not one of the ones you tried during those few days on our trip," Luna commented wryly. "I think I've had enough Spam for a few years."

Shinji grimaced.

"Sorry about that."

"I didn't really mind," she admitted with a soft smile, as she reached up and squeezed his fingers. "After all, I don't find your company unpleasant. Even if your cooking is sometimes so."

"Honest as ever, eh, Luna?"

"Always." The girl was silent for a moment, before she spoke again. "Thank you for standing for me today, and for always spending time with me. It's nice having someone who understands, isn't it?"

"…yes, it really is."

* * *

Things were somewhat less cordial in the office of Severus Snape, where the Potions Master was meeting with Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin – a man who had never trusted him, and a man he disliked, respectively.

Though they had all been part of the Order – and all quite loyal to Dumbledore – none of them had ever really gotten along, and without the old man there to keep the peace, working together was difficult, to say the least.

Still, they had to make at least a little effort, even if two of them had no great hopes that there werewolves would truly come over to their side. After all, they'd always been willing enough to ally with Dark Wizards.

"Greyback, you say," Snape drawled, giving the werewolf sitting across from him a skeptical, unsmiling _look_. "Meeting giants."

"Yes, Severus," the tired, nervous man replied, blotting his forehead. "I saw them near Minsk, where Fenrir Greyback was making an alliance with a giant tribe."

"And why, praytell, were you all the way in…wherever in the world Minsk is?" Snape inquired, "instead of seeking out the werewolves?"

"I…"

"Do you find out where they were going?" Moody demanded. "Who – or what – their target is?"

"…well, no," Lupin admitted. "They were about to see me, so I…"

"What am I supposed to do with this then?" the old Auror asked, his artificial blue eye fixing the werewolf with an unblinking stare. "Without something that shows they are a threat to _us_ , I can't bring this to the Ministry. They'd say that there is no cause to be concerned about something going on abroad. That affairs in the rest of Magical Europe should be handled by the relevant Magical Europe, just like during the Grindelwald crisis."

"Exactly _what_ was your mission, Lupin?" Snape asked again, somewhat more irate now. "Since you obviously failed to bring us an alliance with the werewolves."

Lupin was silent for a moment. He had been entrusted with this by Dumbledore alone, and it felt almost _wrong_ to be telling someone else, but former Headmaster was dead.

"…the assassination of Fenrir Greyback," Lupin admitted.

"And you were sent out alone?" Alastor Moody growled, only to slam his fist on the table when the werewolf nodded. "Damnit, Albus, as much as I hate to speak ill of the dead, this was something that should have been discussed with the Order."

A tense silence lingered in the room for nearly a minute, before Remus Lupin spoke with a heavy heart.

"How…how did Dumbledore die?" he asked, looking at Severus Snape, the last person who had seen the man alive. "Please. I've read the papers but…"

Snape just looked at the werewolf impassively, his face blank as ever.

"Albus Dumbledore died in his sleep, Lupin. After all, it's in the paper."

"Please, Severus," Remus Lupin almost begged. "What…what do you know?"

"It was a Horcrux, wasn't it?" Moody interjected, with Snape raising an eyebrow at the man's assertion. "Oh, don't try to lie to me, Snape. That whole story about Dumbledore dying in his sleep – hogwash. About as likely as someone managing to impersonate me for a year or some nonsense."

Snape said nothing, but his very silence said volumes.

"You and Dumbledore found Horcruxes of You-Know-Who," Moody growled. "How many?"

"Alastor, that is—"

" _How many?!"_

"Three that we know of so far," Snape admitted. "Two destroyed. The third is here in the castle."

"Show us," Moody all but commanded, and with a sigh, Snape took the diary of T.M. Riddle from his desk and presented it to the others. "This is…?"

"Yes. A Horcrux, virtual indestructible except by means such as Fiendfyre," Snape intoned. "One of the Dark Lord's anchors that keeps him immortal."

"Fiendfyre, eh?" Moody grunted. "Nasty, nasty stuff. Lose control for a moment and it can kill you."

Severus Snape met Moody's gaze evenly.

"Indeed."

"Leave it to the old man to saddle us with his unfinished business," the old Auror growled. "We'll have to destroy that and hope the rest of the Order, such that it is, with the current restrictions of our dear Chief Warlock, can find the rest of the Horcruxes, though we have no real hope in doing so, do we?"

"…no, we don't," the Potions Master admitted sourly. "One can turn anything into a Horcrux, after all."

"Then our mission is clear," the grizzled old veteran all but spat. "It falls to us to eliminate the Dark Lord's possible allies, since we can't kill _him_. And Fenrir Greyback would be a good start for that."

"Exactly what are you suggesting, Moody?" Remus Lupin inquired, having a very bad feeling about this.

"You know damn well what I'm suggesting, Remus, since you're the one who brought me this news," Alastor Moody replied, his craggy mouth looking as if he'd tasted something foul. "With the Department of Magical Law Enforcement tied up in knots, the Ministry unwilling to act, and the Order stymied both by having no knowledge of what these Horcuxes could be and Malfoy's meddling, there's only one option. We take the fight to Greyback and the giants ourselves, just the three of us."

"You…you can't be serious," Snape said, aghast at the suggestion. "Doing something like this – its suicide."

"It's no less than Albus asked of Remus here," Moody growled. "And we're the only ones who can do it. The Auror, the Werewolf, and the former Death Eater." He looked thoughtful for a moment, fingers stroking his chin. "Perhaps Gilderoy Lockhart as well, since he's seen his share of adventure."

"…Lockhart?" Lupin said skeptically. "The man behind those… _books?"_

"You didn't hear, did you? He stopped a Ministry official from committing a massacre here at Hogwarts at the beginning of the year," the Auror helpfully supplied, his frown deepening. "Even if he's playing at some kind of game, what with his provocations of Malfoy and his insinuations about the corruption of the Ministry. Reminds me of You-Know-Who in the early days of the First War, to be perfectly frank."

"Moody, you can't seriously think that fop is…" Severus Snape began, but he trailed off, as he remembered the many echoes of the dead that trailed behind Lockhart.

"What is it, Severus?" Remus Lupin asked.

"What do you know?"

"Nothing concrete," the Potions Master answered dismissively. They wouldn't take kindly to him asking about what happened to Bartemius Crouch Jr, as he died in Azkaban, according to public record.

"So you don't know," Moody concluded. "I don't know either, and that worries me, because that man, whatever he is up to, is _good_. Damned good. And while him keeping Malfoy busy is one thing, I…"

"Moody," Lupin interjected. "One Dark Lord at a time."

"Right," Moody grunted, "When you see threats everywhere, it's sometimes hard to focus on the one in front of you. And the longer we wait, Remus, the longer Greyback has time to gather his forces."


	20. Negotiations

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 20.** _Negotiations_

Matou Shinji stared down at the pile of papers on his makeshift desk in the Room of Hidden Things, wondering where to even begin. Several were the usual missives from Sirius Black via his agent at Gringotts, notes regarding the progress of the ongoing renovation of the house at 12 Grimmauld Place and inquiries as to how he wished to furnish the rooms, since Shinji had previously made it clear that he did not wish to move into an empty house.

Given everything he already needed to do, furniture shopping was rather low on the priority list, as he both lacked both time and a knowledge of who made quality furnishings, so he left it to Black instead, as he had the renovation, laying out his needs for a basement divided into four independent work areas, a penthouse-style reception area on the top floor of the estate, and explaining that he would be sharing the estate with at least one young lady of noble birth, among others.

One was a letter from _Twilfitt and Tattings_ , the upper-class alternative to _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions,_ replying to his inquiry about the availability of "dragonhide" for a custom commission. It was a rather apologetic note, mentioning that this year had been a poor one for "dragonhide", as there had been no Hebridean Blacks or Swedish Short-Snouts that had passed away. In fact, there had been only one death this year – that of an Ukranian Ironbelly – in one of the Romanian reserves.

Given the circumstances, procuring the hide in any reasonable quantity would likely be an expensive endeavor, given that there would no doubt be competing bids, but _Twilfitt and Tattings_ would be willing to look into acquiring some for a genuinely interested customer, if he was willing to show them what he had in mind and pay a deposit.

Shinji's response, aside from referring them to his Gringotts agent and sending a copy of Lockhart's design for reference, was rather pithy. When asked how much hide he'd be interested in acquiring, he simply wrote down: " _All of it_."

After all, he suspected the combat robes Lockhart had designed would take up a considerable amount of material, and if this "dragonhide" really was in such scarce supply, he'd rather have more than enough than less.

…he still had the funds of the Room of Hidden Things, as well as a few black dragonhide coats he'd found that he supposed he could trade in to offset the cost. Slightly.

The last letter was perhaps a bit more…sensitive than the others, given the sender, Matou Zouken, and the subject matter he'd asked his grandfather about – the gala at the British Museum.

Matou Zouken, for all his age and power, did not believe in wasting words. So when Shinji asked him about his thoughts as to a suitable escort for a white-tie affair at the Tower, he hadn't bothered asking who had invited his…grandchild to attend. He had merely noted that it would behoove Shinji to invite someone who would not be intimidated by the high-powered gathering, as his standing – and his patron's – could be affected should his companion not be…suitable.

The heiress of the Tohsaka had been singled out as a fine example of someone unsuitable – someone lacking composure, political experience, and even a refined grasp of the English language.

Instead, the Archmagus suggested, if Shinji had no one else in mind, this might be a fine opportunity to seek reconciliation with the Einzbern family, given that his earlier actions _vis-à-vis_ the adopted Emiya child likely raised their ire. After all, a relatively neutral setting such as the headquarters of the Clock Tower would be a good place to discuss things with their successor – especially when one had a powerful patron.

'… _I hate to admit it, but_ grandfather _has a point.'_

And as much as he thought that Luna might enjoy such an event – and that he would enjoy having her and Sion meet one another – reconciling with the Einzbern was probably better for his long-term survival. So his choice of companion for the gala was clear:

Illyasviel von Einzbern, the true daughter of Emiya Kiritsugu and the Einzbern family.

What was she like, he wondered? Would she be a monster like his grandfather, or like Emiya Kiritsugu, _her_ father? Would she have the nobility of Sokaris or Hijiri? Would she be as sharp-tongued as Aozaki Touko?

He knew next to nothing about her, aside from her name and her age, which Matou Zouken had helpfully provided. He knew much about her family, however, as hers was a lineage that spanned thousands of years, and had once wielded a True Magic. And whether or not the Einzbern were the most powerful of the Three Families, they were certainly the richest (as it was their coffers that handled any compensation for property damage during the Holy Grail War), given their prowess with Alchemy. Not Atlas' variant of Alchemy, though, which dealt with the conversion of phenomena, but Alchemy in the traditional sense, dealing with the transformation of matter – the transmutation of metals, transference of consciousness, and the creation of homunculi.

With such a storied history, how would she take an invitation from…well, _him_? It was one thing to dazzle someone like Tohsaka with baubles from the Room of Hidden Things and to charm her with tales of his adventures. But if Sokaris was any indication, the daughter of the Einzbern would be utter unimpressed by such things, meaning that he had nothing that might incline her towards accepting his invitation to the gala.

' _No…that's not quite true…'_ he thought, his lips twisting into a frown. After all, he already had her attention – and her family's – after his involvement in the disappearance of Emiya Shirou, so he was probably worse off than having nothing. _'Wait…that's not true either…'_

Now that he thought about it, he had his _patron,_ after all – the mutual friend who had requested his presence at the gala.

Sion Eltnam Atlasia, Director of Atlas Academy.

And while the daughter of the Einzbern family might be inclined to simply ignore a missive from him, she wouldn't be able to do so if such a missive was marked with the seal of Atlas.

Or so he hoped.

' _To Miss Illyasviel von Einzbern,_

 _My name is Matou Shinji, the eldest scion of the Makiri, and given the long-standing relationship between our two families, I am writing to invite you to Christmas Gala of the British Museum as my companion, as my presence there has been requested by the Director of Atlas Academy._

 _I have taken the liberty of enclosing a ticket for the gala in hopes of the happy event that you accept my invitation. Should you require accommodations in London or travel arrangements, please contact Atlas, and these will be taken care of._

 _It is my fondest wish that you will grant me the pleasure of your company, as I would be delighted to show you the sights of London, while discussing a number of matters that may be of mutual interest to our families._

 _Yours,_

 _Matou Shinji, O.M. (First Class)'_

When he finished writing, he folded up the parchment and placed it into one of the jet-black envelopes he usually used for official Ourea correspondence – one of those embossed with the sigil of a mountain inscribed with an eye, addressing it to _Illyasviel von Einzbern_ , and placing _that_ in a plain white envelope, which he addressed to Touko, along with a short missive asking his Master to forward this to the appropriate parties.

"Zelkova, take this to the Owlery, if you would," Shinji directed, as he looked back at the pile of paperwork. "I have more letters to write."

"If you insist, Master," the familiar answered, bowing slightly as he took the envelope. "Shall I inform Miss Lovegood that you are almost finished? She should be almost to the Room as we speak."

"…yes, please do," the Matou scion answered with a sigh, deciding to finish just one more letter. Since Tohsaka _was_ coming to London soon, it was probably a good idea to let her know he'd made arrangements for housing, so she wouldn't waste money and time trying to do so herself.

On the other hand, it _would_ be more entertaining not to let her know exactly what he had in mind, so he could see the look on her face when she saw the estate he'd acquired.

In the end, he settled for telling her not to bother to find accommodations, as he had a _surprise_ for her, a missive he finished just as Luna entered the Room of Hidden Things – without her fox today.

"Hullo, Luna," Shinji said as he looked up at the girl, his lips curving into a smile at the sight of her.

"Hullo, Matou Shinji," the blonde replied.

"No fusion today?" he inquired, noting her relatively normal garb and the lack of fox ears and tail.

"Mm, we'll get enough practice with that tonight," she murmured. "Shall we duel, just the two of us? Its been a while since we've had some time alone."

"Mm, that it has."

* * *

"No…"

Harry's voice was a whisper as he saw the body of Daphne Greengrass laying bloody and broken on the ground before him, her eyes glassy and hollow as they looked sightlessly up at the sky. It couldn't be. No. She couldn't have been attacked. Not so soon.

Pansy. Where was…?

" _Riddikulus!"_

The spell came out in an angry snarl, as Harry Potter refused to accept the reality of what was before him.

…and he was right, as the scene _changed_.

The body of Daphne Greengrass disappeared. In its place stood something far more terrifying – a figure that was Sokaris – and yet was not Sokaris – a tanned girl draped in purple and gold clothing, whose blood-red orbs bled endlessly as she smiled in joy at the end of the world.

" _Ah, Harry Potter…"_ it whispered, as a spike of killing intent stronger than anything he'd ever felt before blasted out into the world, with students all over the labyrinth brought to their knees as they shook in terror, frozen in place in the face of what they believed to be death despite their instincts telling them to _run_.

"You…you're not Sokaris…" the Boy-Who-Lived gasped out, the horror and shock of seeing his old friend again like this overriding everything to act.

" _Of course I am,"_ the other replied, a mouth full of razor-edged teeth glinting in the light as she stalked closer to him, her finger-like claws coming up to brush his cheek. " _You remember_. _That day in the chamber. I died."_

"No…I…" But Harry could say no more as this false Sokaris leaned close to him, her breath rich with the sticky sweet tang of fresh-spilled blood.

" _Yes. You saved me once – and then you led me to my doom…"_ the phantom whispered, her voice low and almost… _intimate. "I trusted you. Just as the others trust you. And you failed me – just as you will fail your friends. As you will fail everyone who believes in you."_

"No…"

" _You killed me, Harry Potter. And so I became a monster – TATARI's successor…"_

"No…you're not…you're not…" Harry tried to protest, but before the unearthly pressure of the specter's will, he could not.

The slight form of the girl shook as empty, mocking laughter bubbled from her lips. A laughter born of madness, born of the joy of ending countless lives, as blood red eyes looked into green, as Harry trembled.

" _In a way, I should thank you, Boy-Who-Lived,"_ the false Sokaris' voice continued, as the illusionary form of his late friend bent over him, almost _embracing him,_ lips nearly touching his. _"You let me accept what I truly am. A monster. A lie…just like you. Now, let me help you…"_

"This…this…"

" _ **No,"**_ Matou Shinji snarled, angrier than anyone could ever remember him being, as he conjured up magical ropes to seize the false Sokaris about the waist and pull her away from his friend – pulling her towards him. "I will not allow this, for you are _not_ Sialim Sokaris!"

The vampire looked upon him with scorn and loathing, a look that felt like a stab piercing his heart, before its form _changed_ once more, and the Matou scion found himself surrounded by a great, rotten, _living_ mass of worms.

' _No…'_

This was a scene he knew well. A scene where he stood amidst not hundreds of worms, but thousands. Not thousands, but tens of thousands. _Not tens of thousands, but hundreds of thousands. The very worms that had devoured his mother…_

And yet before him something was rising from the mass – a misshapen lump which drank in the worms, becoming more and more complete, until at last, it took the form of Matou Zouken, patriarch of the Matou family.

"Disgrace to the name of Makiri. Powerless, wretched boy," the voice of his _grandfather_ spoke, the disdain in his voice palpable. "Just like your good-for-nothing father. I expected more of you, even if you were useless to me as the family's heir. But it seems I expected too much. Like your mother before you, it is time to _die!"_

The shape of Matou Zouken dissolved once more into worms – worms that swarmed over Matou Shinji's form, worms that ate at him, worms that made him _scream_ as his skin _hissed._

" _Riddikulus!"_ Shinji cried out, as his vision went _red_. At any other time, he would have been paralyzed with fear and shame, but not today. Today, pain and fear were swept away by an overwhelming sense of rage as the worms were forced back into the form of Matou Zouken – but not the powerful, disdainful Matou Zouken who had taunted him.

A Matou Zouken whose body was shaking as it fell apart, helpless to resist as the Boy from the East launched himself forward, the runes carved on his shoes glowing with an eerie light as he sent the false form of his grandfather flying with a tremendously satisfying _crack_.

"Disgrace?" the boy hissed, a cloud of darkness issuing from his wand to bind and eat away at the thing that had _dared_ to insult him this final time – this _thing_ that wore his grandfather's face – and had dared to wear Sokaris' before, to corrupt the one he saw as his ideal. " _Powerless_? I'll show you powerless, you worthless _imitation_!"

Without another words, he summoned forth a storm of ofuda, hundreds of paper talismans that streamed through the air and crashed into the prone form of his "grandfather", severing limbs, blowing apart the man's head, and more, until nothing was left behind but a mass of broken worms.

…and Matou Shinji standing before them, his head thrown back as he laughed and laughed and laughed as if he'd never laughed before, a dark, cruel laugh that shook those who heard it to the core. The worms vanished, the Boggart defeated, but the laughter went on and on and on, with no end in sight.

"Matou," a voice called from behind him after some moments had passed, but Shinji didn't seem to notice. "Matou!"

"Is he ok?" another voice asked. "No, are you ok, Harry?"

"…we should…get out of the labyrinth…" a third voice managed, one which seemed familiar to him, but in the aftermath of his explosion of rage, he didn't feel like doing anything at all. "Can one of you…?"

"I'll do it," the first voice spoke, as footsteps came closer to him. "Matou." He didn't respond. There was no reason for him to respond. "Matou."

Matou Shinji stopped laughing as he registered the sensation of slim arms wrapping around him, as Pansy Parkinson hugged him from behind.

"Matou," she said a third time, her voice almost a whisper. "It's ok. The Boggart is gone."

Shinji blinked, his body tensing as he realized the situation he was in, but relaxing once he realized he was safe – that there was no threat.

"You stopped it," Pansy's voice continued, whispering in his ear. "You saved us…"

"I…saved?" Shinji repeated uncomprehendingly. Saving his companions had been the last thing on his mind when he'd confronted the Boggart. His sole desire had been to destroy the _thing_ that had had the audacity to use Sokaris' form like that. "Right…I guess I did."

The two stood there in silence for a time, not knowing what to say.

"…she meant a lot to you, didn't she?" Pansy asked eventually. "Sokaris, I mean."

"…more than you could ever know," Shinji replied, closing his eyes as he sighed. Without Sokaris, his first year would have been far lonelier, without the comfort of someone who truly knew the moonlit world – and who he genuinely wished to impress. Without her, he would never have found the Room of Hidden Things.

Without her, he probably wouldn't be Aozaki Touko's apprentice, provisional or not.

"Even now?" the Slytherin girl questioned quietly. "After all this time?"

"…always," the Boy from the East answered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "As long as I live, I will never forget her."

"…you don't make it easy for a girl, do you?" Pansy murmured, shaking her head ruefully. "Even Granger must have it tough, if that's what she has to compete against. I hadn't realized…"

"Hm?"

"Forget I said anything, Matou," the girl remarked, letting go of the boy and moving to stand beside him. "Let's go. We still need to exit the labyrinth if we want to pass this assignment, right?" She looked over at him, noting how sometimes, Matou Shinji looked like he was so very far away. "Though are you alright?"

"…I will be, Parkinson," he replied after a moment. "Thanks."

Together, they made their way to the exit of the labyrinth, as Daphne and Harry had done before them, showing the waiting Professors Snape and Sprout the vials of potion they had acquired.

"Parkinson, I distinctly remember you entering with Greengrass," Snape drawled, as he examined the vials of Invigoration Draught and Calming Draught the two had brought. "And yet you exit with Matou, and Potter with Greengrass? Explain."

"You didn't say anything about not working together, Professor," the girl answered demurely. "Matou and Potter found us shortly after we entered the labyrinth and we cooperated in gathering ingredients and crafting a potion."

"…did they now?" the Potions Master asked slowly, turning his sharp gaze towards Matou Shinji. "Was it you who found them, much as you discovered the large cache in the caverns?"

"It was," Shinji responded, by now somewhat calmer than he had been.

"Intriguing. Tell me, Matou, do you usually react to Boggarts so…violently?" Snape inquired sharply. "Or were there special circumstances?"

"The latter."

The man said nothing after that, simply waving them on, as Shinji and Pansy made their way to the waiting area and sat down next to Daphne and Harry.

"…thanks," Harry said after a while.

"You would have done the same for me," Shinji replied, not really wanting to talk about it. This particular Potions-Herbology session had been something of a nightmare, given the drastic change to the usual setup that Professor Snape had announced.

It had taken people some time to get used to the groups of three – and to performing certain roles in those groups – but as of this session, there would no longer be such groups, nor had set roles, with the rationale being that the previous system had given students ample opportunity to rotate positions and shore up their weaknesses in any particular area.

Instead, people would be working in pairs – to enter or exit the labyrinth at all, they would need a group of two – though they did not have to exit with the same person they entered with, as there was no penalty if one lost their original companion.

On entering, teams would receive a list of two potions and their associated ingredients, with their assignment being to exit the labyrinth with at least passable examples of both potions. The Professors intentionally gave no guidance on how to acquire these potions – teams might choose to brew the potions themselves, take them from others, brew one and trade some of it for the other, or other such.

Knowing his limitations, Shinji had approached Harry about partnering, though his friend had of course had his concerns.

"We would make a good team," the Heir of Slytherin had said, "But that would mean I can't be there for Daphne. Don't you worry about Granger?"

And while no one was foolish enough to challenge the Boy-Who-Lived himself, this wasn't true of those he worked with, as Pansy had noted a few times.

"I know she can take of herself," Shinji had replied, shrugging. And honestly, if she wanted to become Potions Champion, she couldn't rely on him to do all her scavenging for her – he was beginning to realize that by working with her all the time, he might not be helping. "Though…there's no rule about working together once inside."

"True," Harry had allowed, though his face twisted unpleasantly. "But given we all come into the labyrinth at different points, that only comes into play if we come across one another. And finding someone else in this sea of trees…"

"I can find them," Shinji had answered with a confident smile.

"Can you now? Well, ok, that changes things."

Harry had talked things over with Pansy and Daphne, who had grouped up, and promised to find them in the woods.

…and Matou had made good on his word, quickly leading Harry over to Pansy and Daphne – and two caches of ingredients besides, as Harry and Daphne worked on brewing while Pansy and Shinji had coordinated the rest of the scavenging, successfully brewing multiple vials of both potions.

The only mishap had been as they approached the exit – and ran into the Boggart.

Still, they were lucky – they managed to make it out of the labyrinth, and even did well on their potions, to boot.

Others, like Hermione Granger, did not. On her way out of the Labyrinth, she and her partner, Lily Moon, also encountered a Boggart – and when they froze up, they were ambushed by a waiting Crabbe and Goyle, who exited the labyrinth together, potions in hand.

That was the first assignment Hermione Granger had ever failed.

* * *

That night, Shinji and Luna took to the woods once more – Luna to practice her fusion form, and Shinji because he had frustration to burn off from the day's match, aside from that cause by paperwork. This time though, Shinji had brought a batch of fresh meat from the kitchens to use as bait, hoping to lure a spider to the edge of the darkness.

…and it worked.

Drawn by the smell, two large Acromantulas emerged onto the path, with one seizing the meat, where it was instantly trapped by a circle of _ofuda_.

The other tried to retreat, but Zelkova stopped it, using his materialized scythe to slice off the legs of the fleeing arachnid on first one side, then the other, before the circle of _ofuda_ expanded to include that spider as well, with fireballs tearing into one, then the other, until at last, the two went still.

"Zelkova, do you want to do the honors?" Shinji asked, as the spirit proceeded to extract the fangs and venom sacs. After all, Matou Shinji's forte was more in destruction than careful precision cuts.

Speaking of cuts though…

' _I wonder…could I harvest the silk glands as well?'_

If so, perhaps he'd do something nice for the Ourea and commission scarves for the girls and handkerchiefs for the boys, along with fine holsters for those running the Self-Defense club.

"There are some particular benefits to being a spirit," the kodama said dryly, as he dematerialized his weapon, and handed over the spoils.

"…clearly," Shinji remarked. "Shall we move these back into the forest?"

"…by which you mean shall I?" Zelkova asked dryly. "Since I am not weak to venom and such."

"…well, yes."

"It will be no trouble, Master," the kodama answered, bowing and making off with the bodies of the spiders, leaving Luna and Shinji alone.

"You're troubled tonight," Luna commented quietly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face as she looked at her companion.

"You could say that."

"Was it the Boggart?" she questioned, with Shinji starting at the question. "There have been rumors about what happened in Potions."

"…yeah, it was," Shinji responded.

"Can I be of help?" the girl asked in her fusion form, silver eyes seeming to glow in the moonlight.

"Just you being here is enough, Luna. Thank you," he said, as he stepped forward and pulled the girl into a tight hug, his fingers brushing against her warm and fluffy tail. "Thank you for being you."

"Who else would I be?"

"Touché."


	21. Alien Minds

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 21.** _Alien Minds_

It was quiet in the castle – but then, that was to be expected, with most of the teachers, staff, and students of Hogwarts at the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Quidditch game, and after the mad hubbub of past few weeks, Pansy Parkinson was rather glad for the break. Between the Potions-Herbology challenges, scenarios for the Ourea, her classwork, and her work running the nascent All-Hogwarts Capture the Flag League, things had been exhausting.

Sometimes she wondered how Matou handled it, since she knew the Stone Cutter was involved in quite a few events, from planning the scenarios the Ourea engaged in, his advanced study of Ancient Runes, whatever the Stone Cutters were up to this year, and keeping up on his potions – on top of having a lover who he spent his evenings with.

Admittedly, she occasionally felt a bit guilty about keeping him under observation for…certain individuals, given all the opportunities he'd given her, but what was she if not ambitious? And it wasn't as if Professors Snape or Lockhart meant any harm to Matou, she was sure. The Potions Master probably just wanted information on a promising candidate for the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship, and it was well known that the History Professor was to be the biographer of the Stone Cutters – with their full consent – so he would get this information one way or another.

This way, at least she stood to profit, given the extra time with the _Book of Spells_ and _Book of Potions_ she'd been able to negotiate as her payment – as well as letters of introduction to notable individuals who might help with a career abroad. She'd been quite honest with Matou when she'd said she didn't want to end up in Britain – a world where everything would be the way it was forever.

Every person had his or her price. For Pansy Parkinson, leaving this place was hers.

Taking a deep breath, the Slytherin walked up to the History Professor's door and made to knock, only for the door to swing open before her.

' _One of these days, I'm going to figure out how he does that.'_

"Come in, Miss Parkinson," Lockhart's voice called from within, with the girl making her way into the man's austerely appointed office and closing the door behind her. The man, seated at his desk in robes of royal blue, looked up at the sound. "I've been expecting you. Care for some tea?"

"Yes, please, Professor," Pansy said with a small smile, as she withdrew a slim folder from her handbag and slid it across the History Professor's desk. "Here are the summary results for the League so far, and some notes on the Self-Defense Club."

"Mm, anything of note, Miss Parkinson?" Lockhart asked, as he slid her a blessedly steaming cup – just what Pansy needed on a cold day like today. "Two sugars, no milk, correct?"

"I'm surprised you remember, Professor," the girl noted, raising an eyebrow.

"Miss Parkinson, I remember many things," the man replied with a dry chuckle, the corners of his lips curling up into a sly smile. "Including our deal."

"Ah." Pansy blushed just a little bit at his pointed retort.

"Speaking of remembering – do you have anything… _interesting_ to report this time around?" Lockhart questioned, leaning forward slightly.

"League first, or…?"

"I trust your judgement."

"Mm. Well, Luna Lovegood is no longer the captain of Team Snorkack, nor on the team at all," the brunette reported dutifully. "She stepped down last week, with Susan Bones taking her place."

The History Professor nodded and jotted this down on a piece of parchment before him.

"…curious, especially as they are the best-ranked team in the League," the man commented. "Did she give a reason for quitting?"

"No, sir, which is why I found it interesting."

"Indeed," Lockhart mused, chuckling after a moment. "I suppose she found a higher calling then."

"Professor?" Pansy asked quizzically, hoping the man would clarify his statement, but the man simply waved for her to continue. "Oh, very well. There was also an incident in the Potions Challenge earlier this week involving a Boggart."

"This was during the Slytherin-Ravenclaw joint session, where students all over the forest were frozen by fear?" the man asked for confirmation. "I heard that Matou and Potter were involved in the business. You were there, I take it?"

"Yes, sir," Pansy nodded, an involuntary shudder tearing through her as she thought back to that day – that day when she was certain she was going to die, that the faux Sokaris before her was going to rip her apart and drink her dry. Even thinking about it, seeing the bloody smile of the boggart's form in her mind—

"—kinson! Miss Parkinson," the Professor stated firmly as he got up, steadying the girl and pressing a vial into her hands. "Calming Draught." He said, answering her unspoken question. "I find it helps for things like this."

He helped her to uncap the vial and down the substance, with the girl's tension slowly ebbing away as the potion took effect. As the unnatural calm stole over her, damping her shock, her curiosity returned.

"…sir, why do you have this Potion?" she inquired, looking around at his office, and the maps and parchments therein. "Do you…?"

The History Professor's lips pressed together tightly as the man shook his head and sighed.

"There are things about being an adventurer that don't find their way into my books, Miss Parkinson," he replied quietly, resting a hand on his latest manuscript. "Things that don't bear much dwelling on, if you understand my meaning."

"Oh."

She'd thought the life of an adventurer was one of glamour, seeing the world, finding hidden treasures, discovering artifacts and creatures no one had known before. But this…was painting an entirely different picture of things.

"But that is a conversation for another day, Miss Parkinson," Lockhart intoned, shaking his head. "About the Boggart?"

"…I was frozen by it," Pansy admitted after what seemed like a small eternity. "Potter's second Boggart. We all were – except Matou."

"What form did it take?" The Professor's voice was soft, but insistent, urging the girl to remember.

"It…it took the form of Sokaris. The girl who died first year. Only it wasn't her." Pansy swallowed as she recalled it. The bloody smile, the terror of it, how it had _fixated_ on the Boy-Who-Lived and had paralyzed everyone else. She'd wanted to run, but there was no way she could have run, not when her entire body had been paralyzed. "It was like she was a vampire, but no vampire I'd ever seen, ever heard of could just overpower people like _that._ "

"A vampire, you say?"

"'TATARI's successor,' she called herself," the girl related, closing her eyes. "But what is TATARI? Do you know, sir? Your book, _Voyages with Vampires_ , is all about them, after all," the girl continued. "But what kind of vampire is…?"

… _this kind of monster…_

"Mm, what kind _is_ the question indeed," Lockhart commented, intrigued by this revelation, as he recalled what he knew of the living dead. "There are several sorts, after all."

"…there are?" Pansy blinked. She'd only ever read about vampires as a blanket term for bloodsuckers, and assumed there was only one type.

"There are indeed," Lockhart replied. "Many that the Ministry likely do not know about, and would not mention if they did for fear of terrorizing the populace."

"Sir?"

"Tell me, Miss Parkinson, do you really want to know?" the man asked, his voice soft, but unyielding. "Knowledge, once given, is difficult to take back, after all."

"Please."

"Very well. There is one kind of vampire I know of whose powers would match what you describe – an all paralyzing fear freezing even wizards in place, as prey are frozen by the presence of a supreme predator," the assassin explained matter-of-factly. "We call them the Apostles of Death."

"The Apostles of Death?" Pansy repeated, finding the very name terrifying. Disciples of Death itself? That sounded…monstrous beyond compare. "And TATARI?"

"That is a name I have not heard, nor do I know how Potter came to know of it," Lockhart noted. "I can only conjecture that Potter must have encountered such a being at one point. Perhaps through a Boggart of his late friend. I cannot say – it would be rare at best for wizards to survive encounters with such beings."

"…then what about Matou?" Pansy asked, brows knitting together as she remembered how Shinji had acted not in fear, but in utter rage. "Why wasn't _he_ paralyzed?"

"How did he react, Miss Parkinson?" The Professor was curious now, given that very few people had the capacity to face such beings – at least in the world of wizards, and not the other world he belonged to.

"He was angry. Angrier than I've ever seen him. Angry enough to kill," Pansy recalled, remembering the terrible look on Matou Shinji's face – and how after it had transformed again, he had gone berserk, blasting mass of worms the Boggart had become back over and over and over again, with hundreds of his _ofuda_ blowing apart its form, blowing apart the ground it had rested on, over and over again until there was nothing left. "He pulled it away from Potter."

"What did it become?"

"A mass of worms that shaped itself into an old man. It…" she trailed off, forcing herself to calm down as her emotions ran high despite the draught. "It called him a 'disgrace to the name of Makiri' and told him it was time to die."

"And then?"

"Then…" Pansy breathed in sharply. "He attacked it. Destroyed it. He used arts I've never seen before, commanding the power of darkness itself alongside his Eastern Arts as he attacked it again and again and again, until there were was nothing left. And then…"

"…yes?"

"…then he laughed."

"He…laughed?" Lockhart repeated.

"Yes," the Parkinson girl confirmed, nodding. "He laughed."

She'd never heard another wizard laugh like that before, and didn't think she'd be able to forget that laugh to the end of her days. A cruel, cold laughter that sounded like how she imagined the Dark Lord would have laughed. And for a moment – a brief moment – she'd wondered if he would turn on _them_ , if he would turn his terrible power against _them_.

…because if he had, she didn't think she would have survived. That any of them would, except maybe Potter, who seemed to be immune to death or something.

But he hadn't. He'd just stood there until her touch had soothed him, and he'd told her that even now, the girl named Sialim Sokaris was the one who consumed him, if not in so many words.

"Sir. Do you think…he's faced something like that before?" Pansy asked hesitantly.

"I don't know, Miss Parkinson, but I find it likely he has seen more danger than most at this school, save perhaps your teachers and the Stone Cutters," Lockhart answered. "He knows fear, certainly, but it seems that like an Auror, he has been trained to shrug off that fear. As I have been trying to train all of you in the Ourea."

"…not with something to that degree," the Slytherin girl retorted.

"No, admittedly," the Professor conceded. "But then I don't think any of you are ready for that yet, are you?"

Pansy sighed.

"I can't deny that, Professor," she admitted. "Though your _Kobayashi Maru_ test is also something none of us are ever ready for."

"Miss Parkinson, that's rather the point," Lockhart said archly, staring at the girl for a long span of moments, before he relented. "On another note, how are you finding your responsibilities as head of the League?"

"I'm…enjoying the position, sir." And she was. Having authority – official authority – was something she handled well, and it was nice being able to solve problems and get credit for them outside of class.

"I'm pleased to hear it. Should it come to pass that…next year's event is not at Hogwarts, then I will arrange for you to have suitable position, as per our agreement," the Professor continued. "Just don't mention that in your report to Professor Snape, would you?"

Pansy blinked, jaw dropping as she looked at the History professor.

"…how did you know…?"

"Miss Parkinson, the concept of double-dipping is hardly foreign to me," Lockhart commented dryly. "And given that you are in the Potions Boot Camp and the Ourea, it does make sense that you would report to both instructors, doesn't it?"

"I…um…yes," Pansy answered, for once at an utter loss for words.

"I don't suppose you've learned anything about his feelings for Miss Granger, present or otherwise?"

But the Slytherin girl could only shake her head.

"Very well then. Thank you for the information as always, Miss Parkinson. Should you desire, I suppose you may come along for the press conference that Lucius Malfoy will be holding next weekend as my assistant? It concerns the…event you were interested in covering."

"Oh. Yes. Please."

Never let it be said that Gilderoy Lockhart did not reward loyalty, after all.

* * *

In a different part of the castle, one not marked on any map (even the vaunted construct of the Marauders), Matou Shinji stood in an empty room, _ofuda_ scattered at his feet as he breathed, focusing on the sensation of prana flowing through the world.

His robe and wands had been placed in the corner of the room, for today, he had resolved to focus on manipulating the element of Earth – something he had not progressed much in since the beginning of the year, due to all the other responsibilities and work heaped upon him. True, he was learning a great deal from Lockhart's lessons, but that alone wouldn't give him the power he needed to defeat the colony of Acromantulas – the power he needed to one day be recognized by his _grandfather_.

To stand on the same level as a magus – to eventually be able to fight and defeat one in combat – he needed more than his current arsenal of tricks, as they, like Acromantula, or most _youkai_ , would shrug off whatever he could do with his wands.

He needed to master the arts that had been – that were – his trump: his _ofuda_.

Specifically manipulating the element of earth, which was what he had dedicated himself to studying this year, though in actually, what he'd managed to accomplish wasn't that impressive.

 _Whirr!_

He'd managed to summon spikes, but only with difficulty and many, many ofuda.

"That's because you're thinking about it the wrong way, Master," his familiar, the _kodama_ spoke, taking on the appearance of a horned boy in white Japanese-styled clothing with silver hair and golden eyes. "What skills you have in earth, you learned in combat against the _oniikuma,_ correct?"

"Yes," Shinji acknowledged. "My other spells couldn't penetrate its defenses. It was warding off my _ofuda,_ so it couldn't bind it, so I needed something that would stop it."

As said this, he tried to reach out, to _feel_ where the spirit was, not through his link, but through the way it disturbed the ground, sending little ripples of prana where it touched.

Another spike shot up, and it, like the first, was deftly sidestepped.

"But in that fight, your opponent was pinned in place, Master," Zelkova said reproachfully. "Here, I am not, so your desire to overwhelm me with raw power is not helpful. In combat, I have noted you prefer pre-emptive strikes, overpowering those who attack you with main force, but that only works against foes that are either weaker than you or which stay still long enough for you to hurt them."

This time, a pillar of earth rose up, but Zelkova evaded that just as easily.

"Do not allow yourself to be goaded by the sound of my voice, or by my words," the spirit chided him, as the _kodama's_ golden eyes looked upon the would-be onmyoudou in the center of the room. "After all, when you first came to use earth, what was your mindset?"

"I was angry," Shinji replied. Anger had always given him strength, after all.

"No, you were not," the _kodama_ replied evenly. The familiar paused for a time as he circled the boy silently. "Your encounter with the boggart disturbed you, didn't it?"

"…how could it not?" the Boy from the East growled.

"It set you on edge,"

"Yes, and…? I destroyed it," Shinji answered, as if challenging his familiar, who raised an eyebrow and let the words sit for a minute, then two, then three.

"You did," Zelkova allowed, moving to stand in a corner of the room and mirror his Master's posture. "At the cost of most of your explosive _ofuda._ "

"…point," Shinji allowed. "I'm not good enough. Even Luna has been beating me in our spars lately."

Whether she was in her fusion form or not, she managed to see through his strategies, to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, predicting what he did, and how he would move.

"I cannot fault your masters in their original training for you," the _kodama_ said slowly. "They wished to get you to a certain standard of competence quickly, so you learned to attack quickly, to probe defenses, to seize what you saw as opportunity."

"And I learned."

"You did indeed, but there are habits you must unlearn as well," Zelkova noted impassively, his voice echoing around the chamber. "There is much truth to your Mentor's teaching that anger limits your options, after all. It strengthens your offensive abilities, makes you more powerful, but strips away your flexibility of thought, and in true combat, that can be deadly."

Shinji was silent for a moment – no, more, before he sighed.

"…you might have a point."

"Perhaps you would like to see the world as I do, Master?" the _kodama_ inquired, as Shinji's vision was overlaid with what looked like light. Light that he realized represented prana – his own and that of others, with the _kodama_ almost too bright to look at.

' _This is the world as spirits see it. We see the patterns in the world. The flame of life in each living thing. How intent and behavior flow.'_

Shinji almost thought he could hear the other chuckle faintly, almost.

' _All things fall into patterns. All things learn the templates that best fit them. And so in time, people begin to act before they realize what they have decided. To those of us aware of the ever-present now, these subtle hints, these movements betray the patterns someone will move into. The way your prana is shaped, the way you seek to use it aggressively – knowing this makes it easy to evade.'_

"I…see," the Matou scion replied. He'd never thought it that way before, had simply learned to act and react. "So what you're saying is, Luna knows how I think, how I fight."

"Indeed," the other answered out loud. "You have sparred often enough, after all. And yet her mind remains a mystery to you. At least more of a mystery than yours to her. Why?"

When Shinji provided no answer, the _kodama_ provided one for him.

" _Because she sees the world as it is. You may see more clearly than most others at this school, but you still divide the world into parts and pieces, believing that some patterns never change. Be careful lest you fall into the trap you accuse others of – not seeing."_

Matou Shinji was silent, as he could not really respond to that.

"How did she learn to fuse with Pandora…and you?" he asked instead.

"Her mind is open. She is very much like a spirit herself, so it is not hard to join with her," Zelkova replied. "While you have a very strong sense of who and what you believe yourself to be. Identities you seize, cling to, as if they are your life itself. You define yourself rigidly. She does not. She and her fox are still Luna Lovegood, because her sense of self is broad enough to accept that. You do not see the world the same way, so fusion is more difficult for you."

"Huh…"

And that was true.

For all of his life, Matou Shinji had tried to define himself as one thing or another. First, he had called himself the heir to the Matou family, and had striven to be a magus, despite having no circuits at all. Then, when he'd received the letter from Hogwarts, he'd been determined to be seen as someone worthy, someone powerful, someone who would be respected – as the _heir of the Matou should be_.

…even if he was not the heir.

"So we return then to the moment you first used earth," Zelkova said mildly. "Close your eyes, think back to the moment when you hung in the sky, looking down at your enemy, the great bear. You were injured. Everything you had tried was useless. But were you angry?"

Shinji closed his eyes, thinking back, back, back to that fight which had happened almost a lifetime ago, to the moment he'd decided to try earth.

"…no," he realized. There had been no anger. He had almost seemed to watch from outside himself, unaffected by his wounds as his mind raced. "I wasn't."

"You did not rush, or force yourself to use earth elemental _ofuda_ , did you?"

…no. That he had not. He had shaped it slowly, deliberately, knowing he only had one chance, one shot to strike the enemy – and that he had to make that shot count, as it was the only one he had. And in that moment, as his power filled the world, he could have shaped the earth as he saw fit.

"It was in the end, when you completed you spell, that you added the notion of wrath to it. That you wished for the land to become your wrath and cage the enemy with spikes and blades."

"…yes," Shinji admitted. Now that he thought back, that _was_ how it happened.

"The mindset you had then – one of deliberation, of waiting for the right opportunity and seizing it – that is fundamental for the mastery of earth," the _kodama_ noted gently, golden eyes looking upon the boy impassively. "You have not had that mindset since then. That sense of focus."

And he hadn't, being too distracted by other things.

"As you are, you are not yet powerful enough that you can afford that, not against what you seek to face," the _kodama_ continued. "Not enough for what you seek to become."

Silence hung in the air, as Matou Shinji let himself consider these things, and how his deepest desires were pitted against his pride.

…he was proud, there was no doubt of that, but it was not pride that had led him to become Aozaki Touko's apprentice, or pride that had gained him the respect of the Director of Atlas. It was something more – a desire to be something more.

"Can you teach me, Zelkova?" Matou Shinji found himself asking. This was hard for him, as he didn't like admitting to weakness. "I want…to be strong enough to protect my friends. To protect Luna. To be a Matou Shinji I am not ashamed of. As I am, I don't think what I have is enough."

"Mm," the other replied, a quiet sound that commanded the boy's full attention. "That I can do. I will teach you, Master, to shape the earth. To sinks others into it, to shake the world, to cause rocks to fall or use earth to shield your mortal form. I will teach you to see, to use the vibrations in the earth to sense what is around you and to read the patterns of the world. I will teach you to change the patterns, so you can hide your intent and presence. I can do all this and more…if you are willing to learn, as an apprentice would from a Master."

…that was something of a reversal, but Shinji knew he had no choice. Not if he wished to become as powerful, as strong, as he claimed to be.

"And fusion as well?" Shinji asked.

"That will come in time," the other noted.

"As you will."

* * *

For Hermione Granger, the day was considerably less wonderful, as the rest of the week had been. After Matou had left her to her own devices in the Potions-Herbology joint session, she'd gamely done her best, trying her best to believe that Matou had done this for her own good, to give her a chance to practice her potions and scavenging skills without him by her side – as he would not be in the final competition.

…and she'd failed. Utterly, completely failed – freezing up not only from a spike of fear that had come out of nowhere, but also when she encountered a Boggart herself.

A Boggart in the form of Luna Lovegood, wearing the white ensemble she had to the Halloween Ball, who had told her that Matou didn't really love her, that if loved her, he would have stayed by her side, instead of straying. If he loved her, he would have responded to her kiss, wouldn't he? If he loved her, wouldn't he have chosen her over Pansy when it came to choosing between opening the Capture the Flag season or going to Hogsmeade with her - something he knew she had been looking forward to?

And worst of all, the false Luna had asked that if Matou Shinji really loved Hermione Granger, why wasn't he there with her?

She hadn't been able to reply before the world went black. And when she was revived, she found that her potions had been stolen, and she had failed.

' _And Matou wasn't here today…'_

Yes, she'd heard that he had his own difficulties, seeing Sokaris as his Boggart or some such, and her heart had ached to hear that, as she knew it would probably have hurt him badly if their late friend had blamed him…

…but as she trudged back from the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game that Su Li had insisted – and which she had attended not to worry the girl, she wished it was him walking beside her. That he would be there when she got back to the tower, to hold her and comfort her and tell her it would be alright.

…but he wasn't.

…and worse, neither was Luna Lovegood, Matou's childhood friend.

* * *

He walked through the cool corridors of the Hogwarts dungeons, taking in the rather damp décor as he proceeded, his robes billowing behind him as he walked. This was not his domain, of course, but he'd certainly seen worse over the years, as he'd walked through hundreds of battlefields, seen many ruins and makeshift shelters where people still lived – or had lived.

As the Assassin made his way to the appointed area, he smirked as there was no sense of surprise, foreboding, or anything at all really.

He rapped on the door to the rhythm of "shave and a haircut, two bits," wondering if the other man would recognize it.

But if the other did, there was no sign.

"Enter," the brusque voice of the castle's Potions Master intoned.

And so Gilderoy Lockhart entered the lair of Severus Snape, to which he'd been summoned.

"You wanted to see me, Severus?" the History Professor asked with an easy smile.

"Yes," the dour Potions Master returned. "I presume you are familiar with the Ravenclaw named Matou Shinji, since he heads your…Ourea."

"Indeed, I have the pleasure," Lockhart replied with a slight bow and a flourish of his hands that brought a frown to Snape's lips. "What do you want to know, Severus?"

Snape paused for a moment, as if finding something particularly…distasteful, but sighed and shook his head.

"As you know, I have combined Potions and Herbology classes this year in an effort to seek a candidate for Hogwarts Potions Champion," the Potions Master ground out. "However, the students as a whole have been less than…entirely impressive. Even, I regret to say, those I have recruited for my Potions Boot Camp."

"Except Matou, I gather?"

"Matou, Potter, and the Weasley Twins," Snape elaborated, though it was clear the admission did not come easily.

"The Stone Cutters," Lockhart summed up.

"Indeed. Given the format of the competition, survival is paramount. Being able to brew is a necessity as well, but if one cannot survive the preliminaries, which involve navigating an enchanted isle full of magical beasts, scavenging ingredients on the way…"

"…one is likely not going to brew anything too impressive."

"Hn. One is a student I have given extensive tutelage to, so I am unsurprised at his skill, both in brewing and his ability to defend himself. Two are the Weasley Twins, and I do not believe I need to elaborate on them." Their penchant for mischief and mayhem had been well known for years – though that was before they joined the Stone Cutters. "But it is Matou that…intrigues me."

"Because of the Boggart incident."

"Yes."

"All four are quite competent," Lockhart noted. "Matou all the more so, as I've been taking him under my wing as an adventurer."

"An…adventurer…"

"Yes, he seems to have the notion that his life will take him beyond Britain," Lockhart noted dryly. "Imagine that from a boy who comes from Japan."

"I have been to _Mahoutokoro,"_ Snape replied flatly. "Let us cut to the heart of the matter. I do not question his competence, but I am…concerned about his reaction to a boggart. Specifically his attempt to brutally and violently destroy it, followed by rather…disturbing laughter."

"I think it likely that the boy is simply under a great deal of stress, Severus," Lockhart explained. "After all, he was moved up to the next year of Ancient Runes, among other things."

"So I had heard," Snape acknowledged. The man was silent for a moment before attempting to probe along a different line of questioning. "Your…organization founded a self-defense club this year, and a new sport based around defense. Why?"

"Such a thing is always useful for teaching students the art of strategy, after all," the History Professor noted. "You can hardly disagree, given that you are doing much the same with the Potions-Herbology Classes."

"…granted," Snape allowed grudgingly. "A sport, however?"

"Why not? The Hogwarts Houses have been divided long enough," Lockhart said, his smile easy and affable, much to Snape's irritation. "Moody and Shacklebolt seem to like my methods well enough."

Snape swallowed a reply that Alastor Moody in fact was wondering what the hell Lockhart was playing at, and what his intentions were, as that would not be helpful at the moment.

"Perhaps," the Potions Master said simply. "As a matter of curiosity then, in your discussions with the Stone Cutters, have you learned anything about the one they call Sialim Sokaris?"

"No," Lockhart answered, quite honestly – after all, Pansy Parkinson was not one of the Stone Cutters. "Though wouldn't you know more, as you were Dumbledore's agent for a time, and no doubt know what _really_ happened in the catacombs?"

Snape blinked, his scowl deepening.

"I sure I have no idea what you mean," the man replied flatly.

"Clearly," Lockhart answered in much the same tone. "Did you have anything else you wanted to ask, Severus? I find I have a good deal of writing to do. An author's life is a busy one, after all!"

Snape looked at the History Professor with not a small amount of frustration, as he knew the man would not answer clearly as to what his objectives were here. Whatever the truth to his reputation as an adventurer, the man was certainly…canny, at least in the ways of politics.

"You are still writing the late Quirrell's biography, I presume?" the Potions Master said at last, noting the adventurer's nod of acknowledgement. "Have you discovered anything interesting about his year on sabbatical?"

Lockhart nodded curtly.

"Of course, though you'll have to wait for the book for details," the History Professor chided, waggling his finger at the other man. "After all, I have to make a living somehow. Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," Snape responded through gritted teeth. "You'll find I'm full of surprises."

"What do you want me to say, that he met Lord Voldemort's ghost in Albania?" Gilderoy asked glibly, throwing up his hands. "Tut tut, Severus. Don't go looking for spoilers. You'll meet your death one of these days."

With that, the assassin waltzed out of the room, with the Potions Master of Hogwarts glaring daggers at his back.

' _Gilderoy Lockhart, what kind of game are you playing?'_ he wondered. But then what the man had said struck him and his frown deepened into an outright scowl. _'And how is it that you dare to use the Dark Lord's name?'_

…whatever the case, though, it was clear the man _had_ found something. And given that the Dark Lord had possessed Quirrell…there was a good chance Lockhart was telling the truth.

But then, if so…why was _he_ not possessed himself?

Greatest adventurer of Britain he might be, but beyond that…

' _Who_ are _you?'_


	22. Truth and Reconciliation

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 22.** _Truth and Reconciliation_

Jubstacheit von Einzbern, the eighth head of the Einzbern family, frowned as he examined the missive before him, allegedly from the eldest scion of the Makiri. The Makiri…that was a name he knew well, the name of one of the two families that their bloodline had been forced to seek help from in their quest to regain their lost Magic.

Once, the heads of their family had numbered among the Magicians – those peerless ones who wielded miracles beyond any other. Miracles like the denial of nothingness – the power to create something from nothing at all and to utterly deny the void, to create something permanent, indestructible, eternal. The power to tap into – visit – make use of parallel worlds, drawing from an infinite kaleidoscope of possibilities for divination, power, and more. The power to transcend the limits of time and fate, to instantly realize one's potential in the blink of an eye, to rewrite the world, revising past, present, and future. The Magic once wielded by the half-incubus they called the Highest Mage, transcending the boundaries of the world – every world.

And of course, their own Magic, Heaven's Feel – the materialization of the soul, changing those who used it into a higher form of existence, high-dimensional planar beings who did not need a physical form to interact with the world, and were immortal to boot, surpassing the limits and certainty of flesh. Those born as humans existed in this world as a coupling of body and soul: the soul contained the memories, mind, and magic circuits of a person, and the body was the anchor which kept the soul in this world. Once the body was destroyed, unless some action had been taken in advance or was taken immediately thereafter, the soul would return to Akasha to be recycled via reincarnation, making true resurrection nearly impossible unless one could turn back time, rewrite the laws of cause and effect – or change the very nature of the soul.

There were of course, a very few exceptions to this. The best known were the Heroic Spirits, souls freed from the constraints of time and removed from the ring of reincarnation by being remembered – and worshipped in a sense – by humanity at large. Essentially, this was the axiom that as long as a person was remembered, they weren't completely gone, writ large.

Part-humans bearing the blood of the fey, youkai, or other similar species were also an exemption, as upon being freed from their mortal vessels, their souls did not enter the cycle of reincarnation, but passed to the Other Side of the World – the plane of spirits, in effect enjoying an afterlife.

The land of Avalon from Arthurian lore was one such place; it was there that the fey had gone after the Age of Gods ended, a place dense in mystery and power that the souls of normal humans of the current age simply could not reach, and could not survive in – save for the odd exception of Heroic Spirits with perhaps distorted natures and a pre-existing connection to that land and of course, the Magicians, but then neither of those could be said to be normal humans anyway.

For many years the heads of the Einzbern had been Magicians themselves, but a thousand years ago, the knowledge of the miracle had been lost, with what remained being woefully incomplete. For a millennia since, the one – the _only_ – goal of their family had been to recover their Magic, but their quest had been in vain.

The path they had once taken to achieve Magic was barred to them, and though they strove tirelessly for eight centuries, their solitary efforts availed naught. So, swallowing their pride, they turned to the Second Magician, the Wizard Marshal himself, for aid, and he in turn had brought them together with the Makiri and the Tohsaka to establish the ritual of Heaven's Feel two centuries ago.

But that ritual had been a failure, ending before its completion. For as the three families were constructing the Great Grail, they realized that when it was completed – when the ritual was finished, only one person would be able to walk the path. In Jubstacheit's mind, that right belonged to the Einzbern, given that the opening of the path was only possible because of the Holy Maiden of Winter, who sacrificed herself to become the core of the Great Grail.

The Tohsaka had merely provided the land, and the Makiri the creation of the Master-Servant system that allowed them to summon aspects of Heroic Spirits as familiars, which upon death would be held in the Grail Vessel until all were released to return to the Origin.

…but those treacherous others did not honor the sacrifice of the Winter Saint, nor the millennium-long struggle of their family, as each believed _they_ were worthy of the path.

So the first ritual of Heaven's Feel was followed by six decades later by a Second, a Third after that, and a Fourth after _that_ – three rituals that Jubstacheit von Einzbern had overseen – three rituals that had ended in failure.

Failure from the treachery of the ones they had once called their allies.

The Makiri and the Tohsaka, who coveted the path to Akasha, and the power it would bring. The Second Magician who did not enforce the rightful claim of the Einzbern to the Greater Grail, even though it was _they_ who had come up with the idea for the ritual in the first place. And perhaps most painful of all, the betrayal of his son-in-law, the foreigner who had married into their family – who knew their deepest wish, who had vowed to help them acquire the Grail – but betrayed them in the end.

The foreigner Emiya Kiritsugu, who had won the war, and then spurned the prize, willfully destroying it.

For the Einzbern, this was the most painful thing of all. In the Fourth War, after two hundred years of pain and defeat, they had come so close to regaining their lost miracle…and then their agent threw it all away, throwing everything they had done for him in their face.

And so as _that man_ denied them their deepest wish – they would deny him. Instead of punishing him through something so crude as torture or execution, Jubstacheit von Einzbern had decided instead to never again allow Emiya Kiritsugu into their forest's Bounded Field, to take _that man's_ daughter away from him and make _that man's_ daughter aware that he was a traitor to the family – a man who chose to reject her.

…for there was no way that _that man_ could not have known that that was what would be the consequence of his choice.

So as fitting revenge, Jubstacheit himself had overseen the training of Illyasviel – _that man's_ daughter, as the next vessel for the Grail, and as a Master who might bring them victory, playing upon her beliefs that her father had abandoned her after betraying their family.

…which was true, from a certain point of view. The current head of the Einzbern saw no reason to mention that _that man_ had had the temerity to come back to Germany after the War, begging to see his daughter again after what he had done, because it simply wasn't relevant. When the next War came, he would certainly allow the man to see Illyasviel again, with the daughter that Emiya Kiritsugu had so loved being the instrument of his destruction.

Then, and only then, the circle would be complete, with the last thing _that man_ would ever know being the pain of betrayal. Alas, the man had died a year ago, with the Japanese boy he had adopted after the War – who he had _replaced_ Illyasviel with – vanishing under mysterious circumstances some months later.

Circumstances that had _something_ to do with the Makiri, given that their oldest son had been seen at the funeral of Emiya Kiritsugu.

…the same child that had sent the Einzbern a missive inviting Illyasviel to a…gala at the Clock Tower.

A letter that had passed through several hands, including the Director of Atlas, Sion Eltnam Atlasia, if the presence of the seal of Atlas Academy was any indication.

How had the Makiri come to know the Director of Atlas? The scion of the fallen Eltnam family, who had left Atlas after an ill-fated mission involving the TATARI – and had returned after three years bearing the Philosopher's Stone, the highest achievement in all of Alchemy, as its water of life was capable of granting immortality and curing even vampirism. With such an instrument in hand, she was immediately welcomed back to Atlas and granted the rank of Director, with her subsequent machinations throwing the hierarchy of the Association into turmoil.

The Einzbern knew this as they themselves were a family of Alchemists, known as the Masters of Northern Alchemy, and were unmatched in the art of creating homunculi and the transmutation of metal. The Alchemists of Atlas, however, were masters of a different sort, specializing in phenomena, not material, in their quest to prevent the end of the world.

The fact that this child of the Makiri was presuming on the name and seal of Atlas meant that his missive could not simply be ignored.

For the sake of diplomacy, he would have to send the potential vessel to London for this…gala, though there was no need to rely on Atlas for accommodations or travel. That Makiri would even suggest that the Einzbern could not take care of its own, indirectly reminding them of their failures, was unforgiveable – and yet Jubstacheit would swallow the insult, for now.

He would send the girl, without bothering with any homunculi as an escort so that he might ascertain Makiri's intent. And why not? The lack of an escort might tempt Makiri into tipping his hand, and with _that man_ dead, and his adopted son gone, Makiri had robbed them of their revenge, meaning that Illyasviel's only use was to serve as a Grail.

' _And if she dies, well, so be it.'_

He could always coin another vessel, after all, and at least then, he would know the nature of his foe.

* * *

Back in Fuyuki, Tohsaka Rin was hard at work packing most of what she owned into the old Tohsaka House heirloom called Zelretch's Treasure Chest. A gift from the Wizard Marshal to Tohsaka Nagato, her distant ancestor, it appeared in every way just a normal chest – except that it wasn't. It was an artifact created by the Second Magician himself with his signature Magic, and could more or less be compared to what would be called a bag of holding in a role-playing game, as its internal dimensions would fluctuate according to the contents, with an additional time compression effect so that one hour inside the chest was equivalent to a day outside.

Normally, the treasured artifact would only be used only to hold the blueprints of the Jeweled Sword of Zelretch – which too had been a sort of gift from the Wizard Marshal. Well, more like long-term homework, in that he expected them to one day duplicate the sword, but that would be the work of generations.

Still, given that she was heading to Britain to follow in Matou Shinji's footsteps, she had decided that practicality trumped sentimentality, as the number of suitcases required to pack everything she needed would otherwise be…prohibitive, at best. It hadn't been an easy choice to leave behind everything she knew, but how could she not, when she had seen _him_ go from being the joke of the Matou family, a powerless boy playing at being a magus with no circuits and no ability, to a charming, powerful member of a chivalric order who _slew wyverns_ and apparently had access to a truly obscene amount of wealth, as his gifts to her over the years made clear.

The main question on her mind was _how?_ How had he done this? _Any_ of this?

Who had taught him? What forbidden path had he taken in that distant land to achieve what he had?

Surely he wasn't the disciple of the Second Magician or some such – the very thought would be absurd. Granted, he had apparently had some talent at Witchcraft, given that he had left Fuyuki to attend an institute that taught it (though she had no idea what this might be, as the Association did not teach Witchcraft at all), but surely _that_ wouldn't have made him so…

Tohsaka Rin blushed slightly as she remembered their definitely not-a-date at Christmas and how kind he had been, how gentle. How he had come to visit her because he didn't want her to be lonely, knowing what it was like to be a magus.

The Matou Shinji she'd known only a few years ago would not have been so considerate or cunning, or sly, but this one was _different_. He'd moved past his time of weakness, been tested in battle, had become so much _more_ than he used to be.

In a way, their positions had been reversed. He had once envied her, and now it was she who envied him, seeing what he had attained as the embodiment of everything she wanted.

To be recognized. To be praised. To be respected.

(Unsurprisingly, Kotomine Kirei had been rather poor about offering her any of these).

To be free of the shackles of (relative) poverty, despite her magecraft. To become a magus her father could have been proud of, though she still hadn't managed to decipher his will.

She didn't know much about what to expect, except that London would be quite a change from the sleepy town of Fuyuki she'd grown up in.

Matou had been abroad before, at a boarding school during the Fourth War, but she hadn't. All of her life she'd been in Japan, surrounded by the familiar.

Soon everything would change.

She'd find herself in in a place where people spoke English instead of Japanese, where there were different foods, different social customs, and if Matou was any example, a completely different scale of what being powerful meant.

Tohsaka sighed as she looked around her room sadly.

That would be different too. And while she looked forward to becoming better, she'd miss the comforts of her home in Fuyuki – one of the few things her father had left her. It might be lonely, but it had quite a bounded field and it was home.

Besides, whatever housing Matou had arranged for her in London, it would probably be a step down from this. Maybe it would be a room in one of the Tower's dormitories, or an apartment in the city. She really couldn't expect anything else when he'd already been so generous to her, after all.

* * *

In the Room of Requirement, Matou Shinji wept, though this time, his tears were not born of frustration or grief. This time, it was out of a sense of irrational joy, as the letter that had come with this batch of paperwork from Gringotts informed him it would be the last to be sent by mail.

Soon, months of utter aggravation would be finally coming to an end.

…well, until the Winter Holidays, given that the transfer of title had to be done in person at Gringotts, after the buyer performed a final inspection to be scheduled at his convenience, especially in a case like this where a good deal of renovation had been requested and where the seller had made arrangements to have the property furnished.

There were also some other official business that needed to be taken care of, such as writing the new owner into the property's defenses and removing the old one, something that Gringotts would be sure to supervise to make sure no backdoors or such would be laid out, and of course, registering the deed with the Ministry.

His agent had informed him that a sale of this magnitude was likely to receive some attention from the wizarding press, but Shinji figured that was just the cost of doing business.

Besides, it would all be worth it when he saw Tohsaka's face. Truth be told, there was a small part of him that enjoyed teasing the girl – ok, maybe not so small a part.

The sheer amusement of seeing her face aside, however, it had its practical uses too, of course, as he could see such a house being quite a decent base for the Stone Cutters in the future.

'… _I wonder if Tohsaka would like to see Harry again. And what she'd think of Luna?'_

Perhaps he'd invite the two of them to join him at his new manor – well, soon to be his, anyway – for dinner on Christmas Eve, since he'd be busy on Christmas itself with the gala at the British Museum, come what might from that.

Then he frowned.

Dinner meant cooking, and as Luna had pointed out more than once, he was no great shakes in the kitchen. Plus, _somehow_ , he suspected serving instant ramen and spam to his guests for Christmas might diminish his reputation by a hint or so…

' _Bah. I have money. I'll figure it out.'_

Maybe he'd find a good restaurant and order out, though he didn't know anything good in the area, not having lived in London, unlike his Master or…Hermione, actually, though he didn't think she was the type to eat out at restaurants, more was the pity.

Oh well.

* * *

Later that day, Shinji found himself in the Ourea room, at one of his usual study sessions with Hermione, but the girl seemed distracted, as if something was on her mind. He figured she would speak up eventually though, and so she did.

"Matou…are you staying in Britain this Christmas?" Hermione asked during a short pause in their Potions work, biting her lip nervously as she glanced over at the boy, fighting to hide a blush. "Or…are you going back to Japan?" Those last words came out in a whisper, as if she was desperately hoping for the not to be true.

Shinji blinked and very deliberately set down his quill.

"I'll be in Britain," he replied, looking at his good friend. "Why do you ask?"

"Um…well, Christmas is coming up," the bushy-haired brunette managed, pausing as she screwed up her courage to ask what she wanted. "And…" She failed the first time though, the image of the false Luna coming to her mind.

"And?" Shinji asked gently, reaching out and giving the girl's hand a reassuring squeeze, bringing a smile to her face.

"I wanted to invite you to spend Christmas with me and my family," the girl said in a rush, her eyes hopeful as she looked at the face of the boy who was so dear to her. "Unless you'd rather stay at Hogwarts…"

' _Christmas, huh?'_

Shinji was touched by the offer, though he knew it didn't have the same impact as such a thing might in Japan, and that she probably didn't want him to have to be alone when so many people had homes to go to.

Unfortunately, he already had plans…

"I'd like to," he found himself saying, "but I'm afraid I'm going to be busy on Christmas, and for most of the winter holidays."

"Oh," Hermione said, swallowing as her mind jumped to the most unsavory conclusion she could imagine. "You're not…you're not already spending it with Lovegood, are you?"

' _Stupid girl,'_ she told herself, silently cursing herself for having waited this long. _'You should have asked earlier. Of course he'd spend it with his childhood friend if you don't speak up…'_

"No, actually," Shinji replied, surprised that Luna's name would come up at all. The misunderstanding half amused him, though he wondered why Hermione would make such an assumption. "Actually, my Master is coming over from Japan, and has some things she needs me to take care of in London."

Going to the gala, for one, which wasn't something he could tell Hermione about, since it involved the Moonlit world, which he suspected she wouldn't take well to. And well, it involved the Director of Atlas as well, which was something he didn't want to go into…

"Oh," Hermione said again, in a very small voice. "Even on Christmas?"

"I'm afraid so," Shinji confirmed with an apologetic smile. "Otherwise I wouldn't mind."

"What about some other time during the holidays, then?" the girl wondered aloud. "I'm sure my parents would be happy to meet you. And well…if you don't already have somewhere to stay in London, you could come stay with me while you're doing things for your Master. It's not easy finding a place to stay in London during the holidays."

She looked down at that, her face almost beet-red as she realized how forward that sounded. She'd just asked a boy to stay at her house over the holidays.

"I would, but I actually do have somewhere to stay," he murmured, his fingers reaching out and lifting her chin so he could meet her gaze.

"Y-you do?" she stammered.

"Yes. Don't tell anyone this, but I've made arrangements to buy the Black estate. In fact, I finished the last of the paperwork this morning," Shinji replied easily. It felt good to tell someone – the act of saying it made it feel all the more true. He was _done._ Finally _done._ "I just have to go to Gringotts to sign the deed once the holidays come around." He chuckled. "You'll probably read about it in the _Prophet_ anyway, so I thought you should hear it from me."

Hermione _stared,_ her eyes – and mouth – hanging open in shock _._

Matou was…rich enough to buy an entire estate? He was this wealthy, this powerful, and he still had chosen _her_ as someone to be with?

Suddenly her doubts about whether he liked her seemed a little insignificant.

He could have anyone he wanted at Hogwarts, but he'd chosen _her_ , thought _she_ was special, and shared with her a secret _._ And that made her happier than anything else in the world might have.

"But why?" she murmured when she found her voice again. Surely he didn't need a house in London if he was going to go back to Japan. Or… "Are you…planning on staying in Britain after Hogwarts?"

"I'm thinking about it. London isn't such a bad place, after all," Shinji replied simply. It was the home of the Clock Tower, and if he was going to be involved with the politics of the Moonlit World, he'd likely end up there after a fashion.

"Are you just leaving it there until then?" Hermione asked, unable to comprehend why he was buying it _now_ then. "I mean, why not buy something _then_ , not now?"

"Mm, well, the Black House would probably have been gone by then," Shinji noted, shrugging. "You can't wait on these things, after all. Besides, one of my friends from Japan is moving to London for school, and needed a place to stay. I figured this helps both of us."

Matou…had bought a house that he didn't need to help someone else?

He really was like a knight from out of the old fairy tales, someone who always had other people in mind.

A Champion.

A hero, brave and bold…and kind.

"Would you mind if I came by for a visit?" she asked quietly. "It doesn't have to be for long," she added. "I just…wanted to give you your gift in person."

She'd been working on a hand-knit scarf for him in her free time, after all, since she wanted to give him something special, to show how much he meant to her.

"Of course," Shinji answered with a smile. "Just owl me. That way I can give you your gift too."

…which just meant he'd have to figure out a nice gift for her, aside from the gift credit he'd already arranged from Flourish and Blotts. Since she liked books so much, perhaps she'd like a personalized set of stationary and pen from _Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop_ , and a notebook so she could write her own?

* * *

That evening, Matou Shinji found himself out of the castle entirely, sitting together with Professor Lockhart, Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter, the Weasley Twins, and Cedric Diggory in one of the Ministry's green rooms. A bit of an odd configuration, but then, as the History Professor informed them, they were to take part in a press conference regarding the much rumored Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"What about, exactly?" Harry asked warily. This certainly wasn't the first press conference he'd been dragged into, and he wanted to know what he was getting himself into so that he didn't make a fool out of himself. "I know there was talk of the Tri-Wizard Tournament happening next year, but I didn't think they were ready to formally announce it yet."

"They weren't," Lockhart replied dryly. "And they still aren't entirely, actually."

Shinji frowned.

"What, are they stuck on the legalese and paperwork?" he questioned, the topic being something never too far from his mind.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Lockhart replied, looking at the boy appraisingly. "Negotiations over where to site the Tournament have stalled."

Cedric blinked, not used to being in this environment. If this was what the Stone Cutters dealt with all the time, then they had more nerve than he did. Then again, they had faced a troll and a Dark Wizard, so that was likely to be true anyway.

"I thought it was just going to be at Hogwarts?" the Hufflepuff chimed in. "Since they're starting it again, and the first ever Tournament did take place at our school."

"That is…one consideration," the History Professor noted. "But only one among many."

"Oh? And—"

"—what were the others?" the twins asked.

"Miss Parkinson, would you take that?"

"Oh. Of course, Professor. It is a bit more complicated than that. When the revival was discussed, the other schools wanted to impose a restriction on the ages of the champions to only allow seventh years to compete, but Britain said no," Pansy explained, with Cedric looking puzzled at this.

Harry though, understood only all too well, cradling his head in his hand.

"Bloody Merlin. It's because of us, isn't it?" the Boy-Who-Lived groaned. "The Ministry thinks I should compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Or one of the other Stone Cutters," Lockhart agreed, looking over the four – and then over to Cedric Diggory. "No offense intended, Mister Diggory. You are certainly a fine candidate for champion, and probably have the most desire to compete out of anyone in the room."

"Oh?" Cedric inquired, curious why the others wouldn't want a chance at eternal glory. And then it hit him. "Oh."

"…right, we get into enough danger as is," Harry filled in helpfully, gesturing to the Order of Merlin (First Class) medal he'd worn about his neck of his dress robes at Lucius Malfoy's behest. "These aren't just for show, you know."

"I never thought they were," Cedric replied, chagrined. "I suppose the 1000 Galleon prize money doesn't really impress you much either."

"Not—"

"—really," the twins answered, thinking that if they wanted a thousand Galleons, all they'd have to do was kill one Acromantula and harvest its fangs – and they'd be killing far more than one soon enough. "We—"

"—have fame—"

"—and money enough, besides."

"That and you're more interested in the Wizarding Schools Potions Competition, right?" Pansy asked, as all the faces in the room turned to her. "That one is a grander thing and happens on the world stage, after all. Or at least Professor Snape says so."

"…I am," Harry admitted, remembering his time at _Mahoutokoro_ and the wonders there. "I owe it to Professor Snape, who has been giving me so much help. I can see just how much he wants Hogwarts to win and how much he cares about Potions."

"…and your late friend, Sialim Sokaris, was quite the brewer herself, wasn't she?" Lockhart spoke up, as Harry tensed slightly, though the boy nodded after a moment, visibly forcing himself to relax.

"She was, sir."

"No doubt Professor Snape would be most pleased if you were to make it to that final stage," the History Professor noted. "As your grandfather would have been."

Harry blinked.

"My…granfather?"

The Potions Master of Hogwarts had told him that his mother was once a brewing prodigy, but he knew nothing about his grandparents.

"Indeed. The great Fleamont Potter," Lockhart recalled with a distant expression. "He made quite a fortune as the creator of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, a brew particularly effective for taming bushy, unruly hair, though he sold the company when he retired, so don't expect any royalties, Potter."

"We've—"

"—never heard—"

"—of it," the Twins said, narrowing their eyes.

"That's because it's not recommended for use by redheads," Lockhart said dryly. "Apparently, it has…unique results."

"Do you use it yourself, Professor?" Cedric wondered, eying the man's wavy blond locks. "Or…?"

"Oh, no," the History Professor responded with a slight smile. "My hair is quite natural. It simply pays to know one's competition."

Shinji blinked.

"Competition?"

"If you read my autobiography closely, Matou, you would know that I once created a line of haircare products," Lockhart noted coolly. "One which used Occamy egg yolk as a primary ingredient and guaranteed lustrous locks and beautiful hair. Quite effective too."

"So…what happened to it?" Cedric wondered aloud. "If it is so effective, that is."

Here, the Professor chuckled ruefully, sighing despite himself.

"As it turned out, occamies are rather territorial, and their native habitat is in India," Lockhart replied, "So, given the paperwork associated with operating in a foreign magical nation, on top of the dangers the creatures themselves posed, obtaining their eggs proved to be…troublesome."

Given that occamies were plumed, two-legged serpentine-bodied creature with wings that could reach up to five meters in height and were extremely aggressive to anyone who approached them or their nests – and many people had tried, given that their eggs were made of pure silver – this was quite a cause for concern.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Shinji noted. "I take it that was when you decided to become an…adventurer?"

"Well, I have a taste for danger, you might say," the Assassin replied simply, chuckling as if at a joke no one else knew. "Speaking of danger, Mister Potter, how do you feel about your godfather courting the Zabini widow?"

"…who?" was Harry's quite eloquent reply.

"Blaise Zabini's mother," Pansy filled in, glad to be of help to the Heir. "Famously beautiful, though each of the seven wizards who have married her have died under mysterious circumstances, with her as the sole inheritor. You don't know about her, Harry?"

"No," the Boy-Who-Lived replied at once, a pained expression on his face. "Though I can imagine why she's courting him."

The Black family was known to be wealthy, after all, and after over a decade in Azkaban without company, his estranged godfather would probably have no defense against the charms of a skilled seductress.

' _None of my business anyway…'_

Shinji found this interesting, but said nothing, as it wouldn't contribute to the conversation.

"Maybe he thinks he'll beat the odds, since he escaped Azkaban – and then was found to be innocent later?" Cedric asked, only to be met with shrugs all around.

"Maybe," Lockhart noted. "That sounds about as likely as the old story where which Sir Francis Drake, a companion of Queen Elizabeth, switched places with her just before setting sail on his voyage around the world, as she could no longer go out in public due to receiving a wound on her face from Lucius Malfoy I."

"Who?" the Weasleys asked. The wizarding world didn't have kings and queens, after all – excepting Grindelwald's desire to crown himself Emperor all those years ago.

"A Muggle Queen of England from before the Statute of Secrecy," the Assassin supplied. "But then, I _am_ a Professor of History."

"There isn't any evidence either way, is there?" Pansy questioned, thinking he would have said something in class if there was.

"Not enough, though given Dark Magic and the way the Malfoy family once courted royalty, it's not out of the realm of possibility," Lockhart allowed, smiling just a hint. "But I believe we've been a bit sidetracked."

"I believe you were discussing the location of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Professor," Pansy prompted, with the Assassin nodding.

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson. The other countries are willing to accommodate Lucius' request to lower the proposed age restriction to include fourth years, but they want concessions in return."

"What kind of concessions?" Shinji inquired.

"You mean, they want the prestige of hosting the Tournament themselves," Harry grumbled, with Lockhart flashing the Boy-Who-Lived a winning smile.

"Correct, Mister Potter," Lockhart acknowledged. "Given that England is hosting the Quidditch World Cup this year, they hardly think it fair for Hogwarts to host the Tri-Wizard Tournament as well. Still, if the late Headmaster Dumbledore were still alive, this would probably not be an issue, as he was widely respected as the savior of Magical Europe."

"Forgive me for asking, Professor," Cedric broke in, hesitant for the first time. "But why are we here then, if the negotiations are stalled?"

Lockhart chuckled.

"It is precisely _because_ there is an impasse that you are here," the Professor explained, shaking his head. "Lucius Malfoy knows he needs to make a concession of some sort, but does not want to appear to be bowing to foreign interests. Whereas if you – the prospective Champions of Hogwarts – state an interest in visiting either Beauxbatons or Durmstrang for the Tournament, then to the public, he is not making concessions to a foreign government – but honoring the wishes of Britain's young heroes."

In short, it was the convoluted mess known as politics.

"Tell us about the two options," Shinji bade the man. "And any implications of each choice."

"The French claim seniority, noting that after the death of Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxine of Beauxbatons is the senior Headteacher, and that her school – the illustrious institution that Nicholas Flamel helped to endow – would be most well equipped to host the Tournament. The Norwegians on the other hand, assert that when the Tournament was discontinued in 1792, the next site to host would have been Durmstrang, and that the old order should be recognized out of a sense of fairness. Given that they have never won a Tri-Wizard Tournament, they are being rather aggressive about gaining at least some honor in the whole affair."

"And gaining home field advantage, no doubt," Harry added.

"Precisely," Lockhart agreed. "I believe the record is that Hogwarts has won 63 Tournaments, Beauxbatons 62, and Durmstrang…a grand total of 0."

"Well, I don't want it to seem like we're favoring either side," Shinji noted cautiously. "Just in case there are some unsavory implications you haven't mentioned. Especially in the press."

"Fair point—"

"—I feel sorry—"

"—for Durmstrang," the Twins chimed in, though Fred frowned. "Even if they do—"

"—teach the Dark Arts."

"I think that makes us—"

"—want to choose—"

"—Beauxbatons though."

"If the Tournament is to promote international cooperation, we should respect the old sequence out of fairness," Cedric added, smiling slightly. "It might be just because I'm a Hufflepuff, but I think that it's important to make sure things are fair for everyone, right?"

"Certainly a consideration," Lockhart agreed. "Though of course, not the only one. I also think that it would be good to present ourselves as a united front though, agreed?"

"Mm," Harry acknowledged. He had been idly musing about Beauxbatons, given the fact that Flamel had been involved with the school, and might have some notes, but if it came to an issue of fairness. "Durmstrang then. What about you, Matou?"

Shinji sighed.

"I don't have a strong feeling for it either way, quite frankly," the Boy from the East pointed out. "Like you, I'm not actually interested in participating in the Tri-Wizard competition, and I've seen another school before." He glanced over at Pansy, raising an eyebrow. "Pansy, what do you think?"

"Well…" Pansy began, well aware that all eyes were on her. "Beauxbatons is rumored to be friendly towards half-breeds, given that their Headmistress is a half-giant, which is not something the pureblood faction approves of. But then, you don't care about that, do you?"

"Not really, no," Shinji replied. "Anything else?"

"Durmstrang is run by a former Death Eater," the Parkinson girl related, her lips twitching downwards. "It's also a much stricter sort of school, I hear, and…it was where Grindelwald went."

"Sounds—"

"—unpleasant."

"Neither option is ideal, but still, if you want to be seen as really impartial to all this, you should choose Durmstrang," Pansy concluded. "Acknowledging the Ministry of Norway and conceding home field advantage to them will probably earn you points later. And well…hosting or not, they _have_ never won, while Beauxbatons tends to win when they host a tournament."

"Well, when you put it that way, I think I'll go with Durmstrang," Shinji related. "Thanks, Pansy."

"Of course, Matou," Pansy said, inclining her head.

"So, we are agreed on Durmstrang then?" Lockhart inquired, as all the people in the room nodded slowly. "Good. Then let's go meet the adoring public, shall we?"

"…I can hardly wait," Harry grumbled.

"Are press conferences that bad?" Cedric asked, never having been to one himself. Surprisingly, it was the Twins who answered, giving him a long-suffering _look_.

"You—"

"—have—"

"—no—"

"—idea."


	23. Echoing Words

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 23.** _Echoing Words_

He stood alone, _ofuda_ scattered at his feet as he breathed, focusing on the sensation of prana flowing through the world. Around him, all was cool and dark, but then, such was what one would expect when one was deep underground. And despite the slight chill in the caverns below (which mostly hovered around 54 degrees Fahrenheit or 13 degrees Celsius year round, though it was warmer in some areas), conditions were far more hospitable than conditions on the surface, for winter had come to Hogwarts, and snow blanketed the world above.

…besides, his robes were enchanted for maximum comfort no matter the outside conditions.

"Are you just about done resting your feet?" an irritable voice grumbled next to him, with a muttered _Lumos_ illuminating the dark tunnel he and his partner found himself in.

"…for the last time, Weasley, I was trying to concentrate," Shinji growled, feeling slightly disoriented from his awareness being pulled back to himself so suddenly. He had just managed to get a faint impression of what lay ahead in each of the three possible branches of the path they had come to, but had been interrupted before he could determine more.

"And that's why you just dropped your little papers on the ground?" Ronald Weasley shot back sarcastically, bending down as he picked up one of Shinji's scattered earth _ofuda._ "Anyone could see you were falling asleep." He paused as he brought one of the papers up so he could examine it more closely. "Hey, and what do these lines even mean, anyway?"

Instead of replying immediately, Shinji took a deep breath before exhaling, finding himself quite thankful for his sessions with Lockhart and Zelkova, as both had drilled into him the importance of deliberation before acting, of not giving in to anger.

Wordlessly, he summoned his _ofuda_ out of Ron's grasp and from the ground below, with the paper talismans flying back to his hand, as his partner blinked, his jaw falling open with shock.

"…you can cast nonverbal spells? And was that a summoning charm?" the redhead whispered, hardly able to believe what he had just witnessed. "How? Those are…"

"You'll find that many of the Ourea are above where the curriculum says we should be, Mister Weasley," Shinji replied dryly, pocketing these _ofuda_. Since they had only been used to sense the world, not act on it, the prana within hadn't been fully used up, so they were still good for now. "To say nothing of the Stone Cutters, of course."

"…I'll…take your word for it," Ron said weakly. "Just…Snape is a wanker and these challenges are hard enough as it is, without…"

The Gryffindor trailed off, not wanting to offend his partner. Under normal circumstances, neither would have chosen to work with the other, but the Potions Master of Hogwarts hadn't given them a choice.

He hadn't given anyone a choice with the final challenge of the term, randomly assigning them to various partners – who for the most part, they'd never worked with before. And if that weren't enough, the challenge was not set in the Forest itself, which many of the students had become accustomed to by now, but the network of caverns deep beneath it – caverns and tunnels which for the most part were devoid of light.

This meant of course, that one person in each group had to use _Lumos_ to light the way, rendering that individual more or less useless in combat – an immediate source of tension in each and every group, made worse by the so-called safety measures that Professor Snape had put into place.

Emergency Portkeys.

Items assigned to each student to let them escape the maze, activated either through a specific incantation, if one was rendered unconscious, or at the end of the challenge period, given that even the Potions Master acknowledged that journeying into the caverns below could be hazardous. As such, these items were not only useful but _necessary_ , the man had explained, given the impossible task of searching the cave system himself.

However, this effectively meant there would be no second chances for students incapacitated by a stray spell, with their stranded partners given the unenviable choice between pressing on alone in the depths, confronting whatever dangers that lay within without the free use of their wand, or simply bowing to fate and accepting defeat.

A number of the Gryffindors – feeling that Snape was being cruel for the sake of being cruel – had protested rather vocally to the entire affair, but the Potions Master had never been one to bow to the whims of the masses, and had simply proceeded to hand out assignments.

Some, like Hermione Granger, were rather fortunate, having been paired with Fay Dunbar, the Potions star of the house of lions.

For others, like Su Li, working with Lavender Brown wasn't exactly what she'd hoped for, but at the same time, it was tolerable enough.

…and then there were the unlucky few like Matou Shinji, who had been paired with Ronald Weasley, a boy he considered a braggart and had absolutely no wish to work with, despite his performance as a Capture the Flag captain.

When questioned as to _why,_ he had done this, Snape had merely replied that in an actual competition, one would rarely have the luxury of choosing who one would work with – that any partnerships were likely to be temporary, and that one would often have to negotiate the boundaries and parameters of any such relationship on the fly.

Thus, the Head of House Slytherin told them to consider this exercise a _favor_ , before sending them into the dark – alone.

Back in the present though, Matou Shinji looked between the three possible paths before them. The one on the left felt… _foreboding_ , for lack of a better word, and the flow of air into the one in the middle seemed weakest of all.

"We go right, then," he declared, with Ronald Weasley repeating what he said silently with an incredulous look on his face.

"Well, if you were just going to pick one, you could have done it minutes ago!" the Gryffindor snapped peevishly. "Just because you haven't failed a challenge yet doesn't mean you get to be so bossy."

"Oh?" Shinji asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not being bossy, I'm just trying to make sure we make the right choice." He shook his head. "This situation is far more dangerous than anything we've faced in the forest above."

But Ron was not done talking.

"That doesn't mean you just sit around while everyone else is getting ahead," Ron growled in disgust. "Bloody Ravenclaws, always overthinking everything. Just bloody pick one, Matou."

"In case you didn't notice, I _did,_ Weasley," Shinji responded, his voice gaining an edge as he had to deal with this rude, insubordinate—he shook his head, as if to clear it. "Look, if you want to lead, be my guest."

"Uh…ok," Weasley answered, thrown a bit off balance by how the other had just handed over leadership of the party. "You know that means you have to use _Lumos_ to light my way _,_ right?"

The smile on Shinji's face, if Ron had been looking, would have chilled him to the bone.

"Of course, Ronald Bilius Weasley," the Boy from the East noted, his voice dangerously quiet as he brandished his wand. "That much I am quite aware of. _Lumos."_

' _Master, do remember our lessons,'_ his familiar chided him. _'Frustration limits your options.'_

' _I remember, Zelkova. I also seem to remember pride doing so. So I'll simply let Weasley's pride be his fall.'_

'… _if you say so.'_

For a time thereafter, only the echoing of their footsteps broke the eerie silence that had descended upon the cavern. Perhaps Shinji was being a poor sport by not telling Ron what he had encountered during his last adventure in these caves – the many creatures that could be found here, and the dangers they posed, but in his mind, he rather thought that if the other boy didn't want his counsel or experience, then Shinji would let the Gryffindor meet his ruin.

After all, if the Weasley boy suffered an accident in the caves, it would hardly be _his_ fault, and it wasn't like he needed the other boy to get through the caverns, not with Zelkova by his side. In fact, the presence of the other boy – someone he neither knew well nor trusted – was what was keeping him from using most of his abilities.

Still, he held his tongue.

' _Zelkova, find me some caches, if you could,'_ he asked of his familiar instead. _'The sooner I'm done working with this…person…the better.'_

Through the mental link he had to his familiar, the boy from the east thought he heard what could only be a long-suffering sigh.

' _Is this course of action…truly wise, Master?'_

' _Perhaps not,'_ Shinji conceded, shaking his head. 'But i _t is what it is. I can't exactly work with someone who refuses to have an open mind.'_

' _Mm.'_

Zelkova said no more, and Shinji could feel the familiar's mental presence receding as the _kodama_ moved to comply. At least that would be one less thing to worry about.

And it wasn't as if finding the ingredients for the Pepperup Potion and the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons would be terribly difficult, he supposed.

When they chanced upon a number of Fire Crabs after some time in the dark, Shinji was sure that he might be rid of the annoying Weasley child – but alas, it was not to be, as the other boy had a fair sense of tactics. True, the redhead's robe had caught fire, and he had been forced to abandon it when the flames threatened to make their way up towards his face, but otherwise, he managed to deal with the creatures just fine, using a combination of _Rictusempra_ – the Tickling charm - and _Flipendo_ – the Knockback jinx.

"My robe…" Ron muttered in dismay, looking at the charred remnants of his school uniform.

"Oh don't complain, you can just buy another," Shinji commented off-handedly. "Those were hardly better than rags anyway."

If the clothing had looked at all expensive, Shinji might have offered some shred of sympathy, as he too had suffered the embarrassment of losing his robes to Fire Crabs in first year. But Ronald's clothing had seemed worn and second-hand, as if he'd worn his worst clothing to Potions class deliberately, expecting it to be damaged or dirtied.

'… _which actually wouldn't be a bad idea,'_ the Boy from the East reflected. _'Since these challenges aren't exactly conducive to survival of expensive things.'_

"…easy for you to say," Ron muttered, scowling at his partner's dismissive words. Money had always been a problem for the Weasley family, after all, and even if things were better now, he hadn't forgotten the way others would tease him, calling him raggedy Ronald, the boy who wore everyone's hand-me-downs. "Everything I have is like this…"

Shinji was rather taken aback by this admission.

He was well aware that the Weasleys weren't exactly rich, given his association with the Twins, but with the twins getting well-paying internships after the first year, and their father becoming a Professor after second, he thought things would have changed, with their family getting better robes and such. Then again, old habits were hard to break – he knew that only all too well himself.

"And why didn't you help?" Ron blustered onwards, breaking the Ravenclaw from his reverie. "You could have done more than stand there with a uselessly glowing wand!"

"…and who was it that told me to use _Lumos_ to light his way, Mister Weasley?" Shinji retorted, his voice quite even and dispassionate. "I wouldn't be a very good teammate if I made you fight in the dark, after all."

"Well. That's true," the Gryffindor grudgingly conceded, brought up short by his partner turning his words against him. With a sigh, he stalked forward again, with Shinji trailing in his wake.

He didn't apologize, but the Boy from the East supposed that the admission was about as much of a concession as he could reasonably expect, and as they continued, an invisible Zelkova pressed a vial of Chizpurfle carapace into his hand – one of the vital ingredients of the Antidote to Uncommon Potions, and a vial of bicorn horn – needed for the Pepperup Potion.

' _Thank you. No luck finding anything else?'_

' _Not in this region of the caves, nor behind us,'_ the _kodama_ reported, with an almost pensive tone to the spirit's mental voice. _'I suspect some of the ingredients are not in caches.'_

' _Fire seeds, certainly,'_ Shinji noted, as he knew the cave system was home to a number of bushes. _'Billywigs also…worry me.'_

Given that Billywigs were small, sapphire-blue creatures only half an inch long, one would normally dismiss them as threats – until one realized that they were both aggressive and _fast._ Fast enough that most would fail to notice them until they had been stung, after which defeating them – or even leaving the area – would no longer be a concern at all, given the mind-altering properties of their venom.

To put it crudely, those stung by them would be catapulted into the heights of euphoria and giddiness, a transcendental state of pleasure and happiness – which would not ordinarily not be so bad, except that it was followed by temporary levitation, with the nigh inevitable additional stings increasing the height and duration of hovering.

…in some cases, this led to very nasty deaths when the hovering charm finally wore off, and practitioners without the ability to apparate or slow their momentum slammed into the ground with at terminal velocity.

Fortunately, as they were inside a network of caves, they wouldn't fly up quite so high, but being placed into a prolonged altered state of consciousness where one was unable to act would still mean failure.

'… _and failure would be almost guaranteed if one had lost one's partner, since one would not be able to break from the trap alone - unless one had taken a Calming Draught ahead of time,'_ Shinji realized, his eyes narrowing at all the possible ways to fail. _'That's…'_

He didn't even know what to think. One part of him – the part that believed that one needed to be thorough, to ignore human sentiment and complete one's objectives regardless of the cost, appreciated the elegance and cunning of Snape's plan, given that twists like this made sure that neither party could simply coast to victory on the other's coattails, since usually the stronger individual would take point and—

—sadly, Matou Shinji had no more time to think, as Ronald Weasley leapt into the air with a cry of "ow!"…and stayed afloat.

' _Damnit. They got him.'_

Which meant there was no time to lose.

Drawing his second wand, Matou Shinji launched a wordless " _Verdimillious"_ at where he remembered Ron Weasley to be, as an orb of glowing green energy shot from the wand-tip and exploded in a blinding flash of emerald light, with white sparks playing over the forms of the Billywigs, paralyzing them and halting the motion of their rapidly whirring wings.

One by one, they fell, their bodies sparking and twitching as they writhed on the ground.

If he were anyone else, the boy would have been faced with the unenviable task of attempting to hit over a dozen coin-sized targets before the temporary paralysis wore off and the Billywigs lifted off again, but fortunately, the Ravenclaw quite literally had a few tricks up his sleeve.

' _Bind!'_

At his command, a flurry of paper talismans shot forth, one homing in on each of the small creatures and sealing their movements. Warily. He cast _Verdimillious_ again, in case there were any other creatures hidden from sight – but there were none in the area. The entire encounter had taken mere handful of seconds, meaning that Ronald Weasley was still floating – and still in a blissful state of mind – unaware of his surroundings.

Seeing this, Shinji sighed.

' _Zelkova, watch the area, I'm going to harvest the stingers.'_

He supposed he might as well do something constructive while he waited for the poison to wear off.

* * *

Unfortunately, the Billywig venom had not yet worn off when Shinji finished, and by now, the Matou scion was slightly worried. A good deal of time had passed since they had entered the caves, and yet they had not finished gathering the ingredients to either potion, nor even reached a room with Fire Seeds.

Had they taken a wrong turn somewhere? Though he had entered part of the Hogwarts cave system before with Pansy during one of his first Potions-Herbology classes, it was becoming clear that he was in a different section entirely, and that his knowledge from last time would provide him little advantage.

Shinji shook his head.

' _This isn't an accident. Snape already knows where I was last time, so of course he'd make sure I was assigned to go somewhere else…'_

He looked around, considering his options. He _could_ wait for his partner to recover from his stings, but who knew how long that would take? He could press on, which meant either abandoning Weasley or having to divide his attention by protecting the awake but unaware practitioner of witchcraft – though as long as Weasley did not become aware of his surroundings, Shinji _could_ use his abilities more openly.

Speaking of which…

' _Zelkova,'_ he asked of his familiar. ' _Is there anything I should know about these caves?'_

The response came almost at once.

' _Master, the caverns ahead are not stable,'_ the _kodama_ warned. _'If you choose to continue, be careful of your footing and avoid using your explosive_ ofuda, _given the risk of a cave-in.'_

Shinji swallowed.

' _What about Earth elemental ofuda?'_ he inquired, given that those as well, he'd have only his wand spells and his _ofuda_ of sealing and binding to work with. _'Would it be safe to use those?'_

'… _only if you are cautious, Master.'_

Zelkova's answer did not exactly inspire confidence. Even without explosive and earth elemental _ofuda_ , the Matou scion was more skilled than most students his age, thanks to his training in Charms and Defense, but he was also more _aware_ of the dangers of the world, and having his arsenal become so _limited_ troubled him.

Especially since he knew there were things resistant to wand spells. Trolls, certain _youkai_ , Acromantulae and more…

' _Even so. I've come too far to fail.'_

And as satisfying as it would be, abandoning Ronald Weasley – a Gryffindor – wasn't an option either, not when people were already talking about his ruthlessness and some were wondering if he was going 'Dark' altogether. So far, none of the people he worked with had been struck down, a feat matched in his year only by the Boy-Who-Lived, so if the first one was this…loudmouth, it would probably hurt his reputation.

Especially if the Weasley boy were to _embellish_ why he left, just as he had done with his encounter with Black the year before…

' _No helping it then,'_ the boy realized, shaking his head as he doused his light with a silent _'Nox'_ , freeing up a wand for combat as he summoned the other boy's wand to him, and used his hazel wand to control Ron's hovering. _'Zelkova, can you provide me with light?'_

The answer was affirmative, as an orb of illumination appeared on his shoulder, and with an insensate Weasley boy floating behind him, Matou Shinji went onwards.

Onwards over floors slick with corrosive acids, through tight tunnels where sharp rocks scraped at skin and cut at cloth, along a slippery rope bridge suspended a hundred meters over a subterranean river, dealing with Streelers, Mackled Malaclaws, and more.

Streelers – giant colour-changing snails that glowed in the dark, which left behind a trail of venom so toxic and corrosive that it burned all organic matter that it touched, were simple enough to deal with, as they were big and slow and not magically resistant at all.

Mackled Malaclaws were a bit more annoying. Light grey creatures resembling land-going lobsters about a foot-long, they were rather difficult to pick out against the grey of the stone passages. And while they were not usually deadly in and of themselves, a bite from their claws would have the unusual side effect of making the victim unlucky for up to a week, in addition to whatever damage they dealt, with an added week of misfortune for every additional bite thereafter.

One should note that this misfortune was not simply the absence of luck, but something like anti-luck, and it was advised that anyone bitten by a Malaclaw should call off all bets, wagers and ventures immediately.

' _Or retreat from this exercise at once,'_ Shinji groused, decidedly unamused. How… _thoughtful_ of Professor Snape to give many of his students misfortune for the holidays. There were many other things Shinji wanted to say at the moment, but he held his tongue, as if he started, he wouldn't stop anytime soon.

And it wasn't as if he'd been in any danger himself, as Zelkova had been kind enough to dispatch these the creatures. In his form as a materialized spirit, he was functionally immune to most poisons, magical or otherwise, and with his awareness of earth, could rarely be taken by surprise by landbound creatures. The _kodama_ had also harvested their tails and claws for Shinji's future, given that the tails had some use in potions brewing – and he could see quite a few possibilities for using the venom in the claws of the Malaclaws to weaken enemies he might encounter in the future.

' _Thanks, Zelkova. Don't know how I'd manage to get through this without you around.'_

' _Sometimes I wonder the same thing, Master,'_ came the spirit's wry reply. _'Though perhaps you should be thankful that your partner succumbed to those creatures earlier. Otherwise, one of you would undoubtedly have been bitten here.'_

'… _Point.'_

They continued onward, their surroundings dimly illuminated by Zelkova's spirit light until they came to a small chamber, from which several paths diverged, each descending into darkness, with no way to know what lay ahead.

…well, perhaps not _no_ way.

Not wanting to waste time by blindly exploring each of them, Shinji cancelled his levitation spell on Ron, allowing the boy to simply float motionlessly in the air, while scattered _ofuda_ about his feet, allowing their prana to seep into the ground as he closed his eyes, trying to sense where each path would lead.

' _Zelkova, douse your light and keep watch, please.'_

' _As you wish.'_

He could have asked the _kodama_ to scout for him, but the Matou boy knew that if he didn't develop his own skills, he would be too dependent on his familiar – and that would be bad, especially if he was to compete in a tournament or some such.

So in the chamber before the three passageways, he stood alone in the darkness, his awareness reaching out through stone and dirt, following his prana as it seeped down in the earth, following each path as they moved down, down, down.

The path on the right descended for a time, but twisted about soon after to ascend again.

The center path split into another handful of passageways – or crawlspaces, if one wanted to be more accurate – and from the way his prana flowed through the stone so readily, he had the feeling that the area ahead was the most unstable of the three.

As for the left-hand path…

' _Descending, descending…huh. A vast chamber? That—'_

Sadly, his ruminations were interrupted by the _thud_ of flesh against stone, followed by a scream of terror and pain, as the Billywig venom wore off at last…with Ronald Weasley falling out of the air onto the rough cavern floor.

"Oh Merlin that hurts…" the redhead moaned in the dark. "My wand…where's my wand? Why is it so dark?"

Growling under his breath, an annoyed Shinji summoned his _ofuda_ back to his hand, gauging how much prana was left in these. Not enough for a major attack, that was certain, but then, with these lower tunnels fairly unstable as it was, earth elemental manipulation for anything besides sensing might not be entirely wise.

"Where are you? Matou?" the redhead called out. "Matou?" he repeated, louder this time, as another groan of utter misery escaped his lips.

"Stop shouting," Shinji whispered harshly, as he cast _Lumos_ and walked over to the redhead, looking him over for any serious injuries.

"Arghh, my eyes…!" Ron moaned, covering his eyes with his hands as the brilliant light of Shinji's wand came closer and closer. "Too bright. Too…wha—?" Thankfully, his voice trailed off as he found something long and hard being pressed into his hands.

"Your wand, Weasley," Matou Shinji replied, not seeing any obvious signs injury around the other's face, or limbs. Well, aside from some abrasions and shallow cuts from being dragged unceremoniously through narrow crawlspaces, but that was to be expected. "Can you stand?"

"Ugh…I don't feel so well…"

"Can. You. Stand?" Shinji repeated, as Ron's vision finally began to adjust, with the boy cringing as he recognized the one towering above him. "Do you need help?"

He reached down to help the other to his feet, or at least to sit up, but the Weasley boy batted away his limb, as if the offer offended him.

"Don't need your help," Ron mumbled, as he slowly sat up, rocking back and forth. "Don't want it either. Not from a bloody snake-friend who's just a Boggart away from murdering us all."

Shinji paused, frowning at the other's words.

"You heard about what happened with the Boggart?" he asked mildly, curious what someone who hadn't been there would make of it.

"How you snapped at the sight of a dead girl and then blew up your grandfather?" Ron growled, recalling what he'd heard about the incident. "I don't see why Flitwick hasn't expelled you yet. You burned your grandfather alive with one boggart, and then you blow him up? You're mad. If it wasn't for Potter being there and stopping you, you would have probably just gone on and killed everyone else there too!"

Shinji flinched at the accusation. When he'd seen the Boggart turn into that false Sokaris and then his grandfather, it was true he had been overcome with rage. Rage enough to make him forget where he was. Rage enough that the only thing on his mind had been making the being before him disappear.

"You might have everyone else fooled," the boy continued. "But not me. You're as dark as they come."

It occurred to Shinji that perhaps an overcharged Memory Charm would not trigger the emergency Portkey, but he put the thought aside. Fred and George would no doubt have _questions_ if their brother was to come back as a drooling idiot, no matter how _tempting_ the thought might be.

Instead, resisting the impulse to do great violence, the Matou scion _smiled._

"Oh, perhaps I am," he replied in a deceptively pleasant tone. "But if so, let me just ask you one question."

"What question?"

"Why aren't you dead?" Shinji asked beatifically, his uncanny smile widening.

Ron jerked back, a frisson of fear running through him at the question

"W-what?"

"After all, I'm dark, right? So tell me…why aren't you dead?"

"…that's…" Ron's mouth went dry as he looked from the glowing tip of Matou's wand to the easterner's cold grey eyes. Instinctively, his fingers clutched at the Portkey at his waist and he began to breathe again. "You wouldn't dare. Snape would know."

"Relying on Snape then?" Shinji inquired mildly, his expression frozen in its smiling mask. "How things change. Didn't you call him a wanker only a while ago?"

"You wouldn't…"

"I wouldn't have had to do a thing myself, you know," Shinji inquired. "After you blundered into those Billywigs, I could have just floated you over to a bottomless pit and left you there, with you none the wiser. And when the sting's effect wore off…"

Shinji shrugged.

"Well, accidents happen, don't they?"

Ron scrabbled backward until he was up against a wall. He couldn't breathe. He felt as if he were paralyzed, transfixed by the other's cold stare as he clutched at the Portkey, all thoughts of fighting gone.

"You…you monster…" the redhead whispered. "I'll—"

"You'll what?" Shinji asked, stepping closer to the Weasley boy, his gaze intense and unrelenting. "Tell Snape? Tell him what? That I kept you safe and alive after you were stung, even though you've been a right prat this entire time? That I collected most of the ingredients needed for both potions while you were out? That the first thing you did when you woke up was accuse me of being a Dark Wizard?"

"I…"

"That you were stupid enough to have someone you thought was a Dark Wizard _walk behind you, with his wand pointed at your back?"_

Ron opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again, but no sound came out.

What had he been thinking? Letting Matou walk behind him all this time, leaving him helpless if the other decided to ambush him.

"…and yet, here you are," Shinji concluded. "Alive. Intact." His eyes glanced at the way Ron's hands were clutching the Portkey. "And a coward in Lion's clothing who couldn't even muster the nerve to run."

A surge of indignation rose in the Weasley boy's chest at the other's hurtful comments, but Ron squelched it, as he didn't think Matou would react very well, simply sitting very still and hoping the other wouldn't actually hurt him.

"Hmph. Not even enough nerve to talk back, I see," the boy from the east noted coolly. "Stand up, Weasley."

' _No…please…'_ Ron thought, but the other repeated himself.

"Stand _up,_ unless you want to run away," Shinji continued. "And if you do, go ahead. I don't need you to finish this, Weasley. You're just a burden. A load."

As if to protest, the Gryffindor stood and looked at the Ravenclaw defiantly.

"I…I'm not afraid of you," Ron claimed, with Shinji raising a dismissive eyebrow.

"Maybe if you tell yourself that enough, you might actually start to believe it," Shinji replied. "Now, you go first, down the left-hand path?"

"Why that—"

"Just do it, Weasley."

Swallowing his protests, Ron Weasley moved to comply, knowing that the faster they finished this nightmare challenge, the sooner he would be away from Matou Shinji.

Quickly, more running than walking, he made his way down the indicated tunnel, trying to stay ahead of his alleged ally, his feet scrabbling for purchase as he ran – until he ran into something solid and _hairy._

' _What…?'_

In the next moment, it was quite clear what he'd run into, as he found himself up against a giant spider blocking the way, its beady eyes gleaming in the distant glow of Shinji's wand.

"…Merlin…"

No. It couldn't be. No. Spiders didn't…this wasn't. It had to…it had to be a Boggart. Snape had used them before, and Ron's deepest seated fear had always been spiders, ever since Fred had turned his teddy bear into a monstrous, hairy spider after Ron had accidentally broken his toy broomstick.

One moment, he'd been holding his bear for comfort – and the next, it had too many legs and was hissing at him…

" _Fresssh Meaaatt,"_ the apparition before him hissed out, bringing him back to the present. Ron had one horrifying glimpse of eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers before it was upon him, lifting him up into the air with its front legs.

" _Riddikulus_!" Ron shouted hoarsely, waving his wand about with frantic motions. " _Riddikulus_!"

But nothing happened. Why? Why didn't it work? It should have changed. Should have been rendered legless. Should have let him go.

…and it would have, had it been a Boggart.

" _Riddikul—"_

His incantation was cut off by a scream of pain, as the pincers clamped down on his leg, and pain greater than anything he'd ever felt before flooded through his body.

Pain. Pain. Pain pain pain pain pain.

Fire raced through his leg, through his spine, through everything as the spider opened its pincers again—and with a jerk, he was pulled free, sent hurtling back by a wordless levitation charm, with one of Matou's papers connecting to his leg and sealing the pain away.

' _Huh?'_

He came a halt somewhere behind Matou, losing his grip on his wand as he struck the floor. And when he looked up, he bore witness to something… _startling._

' _What…? Two wands…?'_

Two wands – one in each of Matou's hands, as the other boy lashed out with spells of all sorts. The red of the stunning spell. Black lightning. The blue of the Knockback Jinx and more. Even more of those little papers, which stuck to the spider, but seemed to do nothing as it _charged_ with nigh impossible speed, slamming Matou backwards with its forelimbs.

' _This is bad…'_ Shinji thought, as he faced off against the enemy – an Acromantula that was somehow here. Like the _onikuma,_ it was deflecting his spells, but this time, there was no room to use the levitation charm to escape the spider – nor could he if he didn't want it to go past him and kill Weasley.

Nor could he really sidestep it, as that would probably lead to the same thing.

All he could do was stand against it – something which he never thought he'd have to do. In his mind, there was always room to maneuver, always room to move, but now there _wasn't,_ and the spider, enraged at losing its prey due to Shinji's intervention, _charged_.

Spell beams flew through the air, tearing apart the darkness as cutting curses, severing charms, knockback jinxes and more crackled against the spider's hide and fizzled out – save for the ones which struck at its eyes, which caused it to stop short and rear up.

With force befitting a horse-sized opponent, the spider barreled into him, knocking him to the ground, its clawed front limbs pinning him down as its razor-sharp pincers came closer, closer, closer still, dripping with deadly venom—

' _Master…'_

His sense of self faded. His sense of power faded. His anger faded, everything faded except the desire to reject the end. A magus walked with death, yes, but did not succumb to it. He was weak alone, stripped of so much of his power by the circumstances in which he fought – but he was not helpless.

Because he was not alone.

Matou Shinji found himself sinking deep, deep, deep into his consciousness, where a seal kept a hidden door closed. A door behind which lay every weakness, every fear, every vulnerability in his life. A door behind which lay his wishes and dreams – behind which lay imagination – behind which lay everything and nothing and a thousand others.

He in front of the door. The world behind it.

Undoing the seal, he opened the door, and everything _changed._

There was no Matou Shinji. There was no world.

All was _one._

' _I'm right here.'_

And in that moment, Matou Shinji was reborn.

He returned to awareness in the moment the pincers closed with crushing strength, with the spider screaming as they broke against flesh hard and unyielding as stone itself. He could feel the tunnels, could feel the earth all around him, the flow of prana in the air, the vibrations of people moving upon the world, the patterns of life in all things.

The earth itself as far as his mind could reach were his sensory receptors, telling him _everything_ about the area.

That beyond the spider was the cavern, where the ingredients he needed could be found. That Ron Weasley was injured and poisoned, but lived, with the poison sealed for now. That the spider raged and attacked him over and over, but to no avail.

An immense amount of data – overwhelming – overpowering as it rushed through him.

As if by instinct, he conjured up a bounded field, hurling the spider backwards as he rose to his feet, a scythe appearing in his hands as he wished for a weapon.

The arachnid charged – and was beaten back with a flick of the grim weapon.

It charged again, and once more, was beaten back.

"Maybe it be your end will come," he intoned, drawing a line of light into the air as he himself rushed the beast – prana crackling around his weapon as he slashed at the great spider. "Maybe it be you will be shattered."

The Acromantula _screamed, a blood curdling scream,_ but Shinji did not care.

" _Silence,"_ he bade, and the spider's voice was taken away as he impaled it, the blade of his weapon slicing through its body into the very ground.

It wriggled, thrashed, sought to escape – but there would be no escape, not with everything in his hands – when the entire areas was as his fingers.

"From clay you were made, to stone you will become," Matou Shinji continued, and from the point where he had pierced the other, something grey began to spread over its black carapace. Slowly, as if his prana was infecting – corrupting – the creature from within, it was becoming stone.

If he could not use the earth against the enemy, he would simply change the enemy into earth that it might be molded, injecting it with earth elemental prana and displacing its own. Its resistance to spells lay in its thick carapace – once beyond that, it was helpless before him, as the troll had been helpless when a mass of explosive _ofuda_ had been crammed down its throat.

It thrashed, reeled, silently screamed, but Shinji just watched pitilessly as the petrification spread, and at last the spider was still.

" _Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

And with a sound like breaking glass, the new statue _crumbled_ away to gravel, leaving no trace it had ever been alive.

When the battle ended, Matou Shinji looked down at himself, finding that he was now clad in a deep grey garment that seemed very Japanese, not the robes of before. And the scythe…when he dematerialized it, he found he felt more complete, as if it was a part of him, as signified by its presence as a crown of horn-like branches.

This power…this immense awareness…

'… _this is fusion…isn't it?'_ he asked quietly. If he wished, he could command the earth to rise, for walls to take form or spikes to impale, for the cavern to collapse, for…

' _Indeed, Master.'_

The mental voice came from within him, and sounded much like his own. Or perhaps what he recognized as _his_ voice was different.

In the moment he believed he was about die, the boundaries had fallen, and yet, in the wake of battle, when the danger had passed, he could feel himself weakening again.

' _How much longer…?'_

' _It never lasts – not the first time, Master,'_ Zelkova related quietly. _'That takes practice. Preferably not in such a place. But you should attend to the Weasley boy.'_

"Un," Shinji acknowledged as he turned and walked towards the other, his extra awareness of the world fading away as he approached the other, with Ronald Weasley looking upon the golden-eyed form of the Boy from the East in raw, naked fear.

This…person…who he had called a Dark Wizard had saved him.

With whatever strange power he commanded – power enough to utterly destroy a spider, he could probably have just have abandoned him to the spider, but Matou had _saved_ him instead.

' _Why?'_

But Matou did not give him any answers.

"Are you alright, Ronald Weasley?" the other asked impassively.

"I…I can't walk," Ron answered, focusing on the details so he wouldn't scream again at the display of power that was utterly beyond him. Somehow he'd seen Matou _throw_ a spider off himself. Not all of the details, mind you, except that he thought the boy had conjured up something to stab the spider, and that he looked _different_ somehow.

He couldn't tell in the darkness.

Wordlessly, _wandlessly_ , the other boy gestured and Ron rose up into the air, trailing behind the other as Matou brought them to a vast chamber lit by seven burning trees, where he retrieved the last necessary ingredients and prepared the potions – including enough antidote to treat Ron's wound before sealing it with a _Reparo._

Now, _Reparo_ was not normally used for healing, as it left scars when used on flesh, but Ron wasn't going to complain. Not when Matou had demonstrated the ability to effortlessly kill him if he wanted to.

And instead…

' _I owe him a debt.'_

A thought which hung heavy in his mind.

"Matou, I'm—" he began, but Shinji waved him off.

"Tell no one of what happened, Weasley," he told Ron, his eyes once more cold and grey. "This last fight did not occur."

The Gryffindor just nodded quickly.

"Of course, Matou," he conceded. "This did not happen. I understand."

He would not offend Matou again, if he could help it. For he was coming to understand that not only did the boy command the Ourea – and thus his chances of joining it – but that perhaps light and dark were not so easy to distinguish.

…and that perhaps if Matou was actually a good person, this meant Potter wasn't just a fraud.

Shortly after they finished their potionmaking, and Shinji had fully reverted to his normal form, they were returned to the surface, where they were one of only two teams to pass the challenge, with Hermione and Fay Dunbar being the other, though their path had been somewhat…easier.

* * *

That night, he told the Stone Cutters what he had seen, what he had encountered in the tunnels, with the others seeming troubled by this.

"I doubt Professor Snape would have made you fight an Acromantula," Harry noted. "We are, after all, only third years, and for most, it's not safe to fight them."

"Do you think there's a risk of more of them loose?" Hillard asked with some concern. "I didn't think any had come so far out."

"Mm, if there are, they won't be active, not when there's snow on the ground," Luna commented, bringing a finger to her lips curiously. "Spiders hibernate during the winter. They're cold-blooded, you know."

"Maybe it wandered in the fall," Shinji speculated, "and the heat of the fire seed bushes kept it from having to hibernate."

"Perhaps," Hillard allowed. "That seems as a reasonable an explanation as any. You said you defeated the spider though? That is…impressive."

Luna looked at him, her wide eyes seeming to know what he'd done – what'd he'd seen.

"Will any of you be at Hogwarts this winter?" Shinji asked quietly, with all but the Twins shaking their heads. "I wanted to invite you to join me for New Year's Eve at my new house."

"Finalized that, did you?" Hillard asked. "I thought I would have heard more about that."

"Well, I have to go inspect it and sign the deed in person, but otherwise its done," Shinji explained. "Robert, if you have time, would you mind taking me over to Gringotts after the Express drops us at Platform 9 ¾? I could use an extra set of eyes to help me make sure everything's in order, and you've been trained by Moody so…"

"Constant Vigilance, eh?" Hillard joked. "Alright, sounds interesting."

"As does the New Year's Celebration," Fred noted.

"Indeed, indeed. Let's go see Matou's house!"

"I'm assuming Tohsaka will be there," Harry asked dryly.

"Yes actually," Shinji replied. "Speaking of which, would you have time to join us for Christmas Eve, Harry? I know you normally spend the Holiday at Greengrass Manor, but…its Tohsaka's first Christmas in another country, and…"

"Well, I guess I could," Harry answered, smiling slightly as he thought back to his first Christmas at Hogwarts. For him, that had been a wonderful experience, but for someone who might have had a more pleasant home life, he could see how they'd miss it. "Not on Christmas itself though."

"Wouldn't dream of asking," Shinji said. "I have other things to do on Christmas anyway."

"…no doubt," Harry replied, looking between Shinji and Luna. "Anything else you have to say?"

"Only that all of you should drop by _Twilfitt and Tattings_ sometime during the holiday for one part of my gift to you," Shinji related, smiling ever so slightly at the thought of their surprised expressions.

"Oh?" George asked.

"And what would it be?" Fred chimed in.

"Now that would be telling," Shinji replied mischievously, before his expression smoothed itself out. "You'll like it though, I think."

"We'll take your word for it," Hillard noted. "We'll bring our presents to the party on New Year's Eve, if that's alright?"

"Certainly," Shinji said graciously. There was a little more talk before the meeting ended, with the group bidding each other happy holidays, before each of them vanished back to their Towers.

Each of them but Shinji and Luna that was, with the blonde walking over to the boy and sitting on his lap, resting her forehead against his.

"Hmm?" Shinji asked, wondering what had brought this on.

"You nearly died, didn't you…?" Luna asked, looking at him knowingly.

"…I did," he replied after a moment. He could admit these things to her, where he couldn't to the others, but it was still hard. "How did you know?"

Luna just smiled sadly, shaking her head as her palms glowed amber, and her yang prana washed through him.

"I know you, Matou," she said simply, looking with him with an expression that made him flinch.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," he whispered, but before he could say anything more, he was silenced by her finger against his lips.

"Don't be," Luna answered, pulling her finger away and rubbing her nose against his. "You came back, after all. Back to us." _'Back to me…'_ She fell silent for a moment before sighing. "What was it like?"

"…like I could do anything," Shinji replied. "That I could feel the world around me, know where everything was, feel how solid and how fragile the earth was."

"I feel the wind. The sky and the beat of each human heart," Luna said in answer, and Shinji rather thought he could feel her heart as well. "It's lonely, seeing things when others can't."

"Mm," Shinji murmured, knowing how that felt most of all. "I'm glad you're as sane as I am," he said, mirroring what she'd said to him when they first met on the train.

"I'm glad too," Luna whispered, leaning against him. Glancing up, Shinji noted a sprig of mistletoe hanging above his seat and chuckled. Perhaps his first kiss had been stolen, but maybe it wasn't too late to have a proper one – one that would really count, since the other didn't…right?

"There's mistletoe," Shinji said.

"I know," Luna answered. "But you don't have to if you…mmm."

But she said no more, as he leaned forward and sealed her lips, with the girl closing her eyes and kissing him back. It wasn't an earth-shattering kiss, to be sure, not one of those found in the romance novels so loved by teenage girls, where sparks flew and the world moved, but despite the newness of it, it felt… _right._

"Merry Christmas, Luna," Shinji whispered, when their lips parted at last, as Luna opened her eyes, a little surprised.

"Mm, and Merry Christmas to you," she answered, as they rested against each other comfortably, content to simply enjoy each other's company as last day of the fall term finally came to an end.


	24. The Looking Glass Game

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 24.** _The Looking Glass Game_

Diagon Alley.

After two and a half years of going to school at Hogwarts, it was hard to believe that this was the first time Matou Shinji was finally setting foot in the shopping district said to be the heart of wizarding Britain, given that most others had to come here at some point or other for school supplies or visits to the bank, but here he was, standing beside Robert Hillard, Head Boy of Hogwarts, having just stepped into a tavern that the other swore was the area's main access point.

"Are you sure this is the gateway?" Shinji asked, feeling rather skeptical as he looked around. This place, the _Leaky Cauldron_ , was a rather tiny, grubby-looking pub, seeming rather dark and shabby – and it had not escaped him that the moment they had appeared in the tavern, all eyes had been on Hillard and himself. "It seems rather…"

"Oh, it's not much to look at, aye," the bartender interjected, a bald, wrinkled old man that reminded Shinji of nothing so much as a toothless walnut. "But the Cauldron's a fine place, aye lads?"

The "ayes" which trickled in from around the tavern seemed half-hearted at best, with most of the patrons more concerned with their drinks than anything else – but then, Shinji supposed that was to be expected, given that it wasn't yet noon.

"…you should have come in the evening," the man sighed, peering at the duo more closely, a sense of recognition flashing through his eyes as he came out from behind the bar and seized the hand of first one, then the other. "Why, as I live and breathe! Its Robert Hillard and Shinji Matou of the Stone Cutters in my humble establishment! Friends of Harry Potter himself!"

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Matou Shinji found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron, feeling both gratified at the recognition – but also rather uncomfortable due to the presence of so many people crowding around him.

"We read about you in the _Prophet,_ " one patron spoke up. "Brave, brave child to face a Dark Wizard so."

"The world needs more heroes like the two of you."

"Delightful, just delightful to meet you!" another said, shaking their hands. "If only my son was as heroic as you are. So selfless, so brave!"

". . ."

Shinji just smiled politely and kept shaking people's hands, though as people kept coming – _and where were they all coming from? –_ his smile became more and more strained, especially when they commented on what a nice girl he'd danced with at the ball, what a lovely couple they made, and how young love was such a wonderful thing.

Hillard was in something of the same boat, as he was swarmed by people who regarded him as a figure of romance and drama. Not for the first time, he wondered how Professor Lockhart put up with the crowds that inevitably gathered around him when he went out, and whether the History Professor had taken a position at Hogwarts for some welcome relief.

"It's been an utter delight to meet you all," the Head Boy said to the throngs. "To honor our meeting, let us buy you all a round, shall we?"

"So generous!"

"So kind!"

"What a blessed day!"

"Indeed. Matou, if you would kindly…I think a hundred Galleons would be enough?" Hillard requested of the younger boy, who glanced at the older Ravenclaw balefully but withdrew the money needed, since compared to what else he was buying, this was pocket change. "Tom, a round of Gamp's Old Gregarious for everyone, please!"

At the sound of his words, dead silence filled the pub. Gamp's Old Gregarious, after all, the brand of wizarding beer named after Ulick Gamp, the first British Minister of Magic, was said to taste surprisingly foul – so much so that there was a hundred Galleon prize for anyone who managed to finish a pint of it – a prize that had gone unclaimed nearly three hundred years after its creation.

Something that all present were very much aware of.

"Um…be meaning no disrespect, Mister Hillard," one of the tavern-goers spoke up after a moment. "But might'n you reconsider your choice of beverage?"

"Nonsense," Hillard replied, clapping the man on the shoulder, while smiling his most winning smile. "If today is the luckiest of days, then let our fortune be your fortune. Perhaps you might even win a hundred Galleons for your trouble! Opportunity knocks once and all that."

"Ah, of course, Mister Hillard, sir, quite honored," the other man said with a bow.

And as Old Tom, the bartender, moved to deliver pints of the brew to everyone in the tavern, Hillard and Shinji made their escape from the bar, going out the door and into small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

"I…didn't expect that," Shinji stated, still feeling more than a little overwhelmed. "All those people…"

It was one thing to be at a press conference, with throngs of reporters sitting in the audience desperate for answers, because they were out _there_ , not crowding in on him. It was quite another to be quite suddenly mobbed by people of uncertain intentions.

"…I guess we're more popular than I thought," Hillard noted, shaking his head. "Hopefully Gamp's Old will keep them busy for a while."

"Gamp's Old?" Shinji echoed. "The brew you ordered for everyone?"

"That's right," the Head Boy answered. "The funny thing about people is that they usually live up – or down – to their expectations, and with me having given them my blessing…"

"…they'll keep trying and trying to down the beer, no matter how disgusting it is," Shinji realized, looking at his companion with a touch more respect. "I guess once a prankster, always a prankster, eh?"

"Admittedly, it's part of why Tonks and I get along so well," Hillard answered, a smile crossing his lips at the thought of the older woman. "We're both pranksters at heart, even if I'm usually a bit less obvious about it."

"Oh?" Shinji asked.

"Unlike myself, Tonks never became a prefect," the older Ravenclaw explained. "Something about Professor Sprout thinking she lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?"

"Oh, the ability to behave herself," Hillard replied with a chuckle, a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "Though speaking of behaving, did you and Lovegood enjoy the mistletoe?"

Shinji blinked, wondering how Hillard had known – and then realizing the older boy must have hung the mistletoe himself.

"…so you were behind that?" he asked in a flat voice, though his blank expression was betrayed by faint spots of pink on his cheeks.

"Of course, Matou," the Head Boy answered jovially. "I promised not to bring up Granger or Lovegood, not that I'd stop…meddling. Besides, judging from your blush, it worked, didn't it? First kiss, I suppose?"

Shinji mumbled something incomprehensible – and highly uncharitable – under his breath.

"…no, actually," he admitted, though he wasn't about to spill the details. A gentleman didn't kiss and tell, after all…

"…Merlin blast it all," Hillard muttered, shaking his head. "And I thought it was such a sure bet too, with how you two…oh never mind, I just owe Potter a case of Bolandi's Exquisite Crystallized Pineapple. Unless Granger did steal your first kiss after the Halloween Ball, in which case I owe the Twins."

For a moment, Shinji didn't say anything at all, though the expression of surprise on his face said it all.

"She _did?_ Merlin, I wouldn't have…" the Head Boy continued, cradling his head in his hands. "Bother, I was looking forward to a case of Blishen's Firewhiskey for Christmas too."

Shinji twitched, his brain connecting the dots and coming to a rather unsavoury conclusion.

"…you all bet on who was going to take my first kiss?" he asked incredulously. Surely his colleagues had other affairs to concern themselves with, apart from his personal life, even if kissing Luna hadn't been…unpleasant at all. "Why?"

"Well, we can't be all business all the time, now can we?" Hillard replied, harrumphing. "With Potter, there's no sport in it – we all know who he's with. The Twins don't have steady partners, and I couldn't begin to guess with them. You, on the other hand…"

"…if it makes you feel better, I do wish that had been my first," Shinji said after taking several deep breaths. "Alas…"

"Alas indeed…" Hillard agreed. "Ah well, can't expect to win all the time, I suppose."

"Anything else I should know you've been betting on?" Shinji inquired mildly.

"Nothing much," the Head Boy answered after a beat. "Just a few things here and there, like which House will win the Cup this year, or which team will win the Honeydukes Cup for Capture the Flag. Keeps the tension off of wondering who brought in…" _'…the Acromantulae.'_

"...I can see that," Shinji allowed. After all, that was why they had not gone to the faculty as a whole with the concerns, given that they knew someone on the staff – perhaps several someones – had to have been involved in not only bringing the giant spiders to Hogwarts, but covering up their existence for decades. Based on how long the colony had probably been there, they suspected it was one of the older faculty members, someone highly placed as well – but _who_ was the question.

It was something of a quandary. If they reported the presence of the colony to the authorities, they risked people wondering why they were there in the first place when the Forbidden Forest had been labelled as off-limits to students – and if there was someone on the staff working to keep the presence of the spiders a secret, the spiders might be given forewarning, so that whatever task force was sent out would not find them.

They remembered _Quirrell_ , after all, and how well he had fooled the other members of staff in first year, so that none of them ever suspected him of bringing in the troll, of harboring the spirit of Voldemort, of any hidden motives – so much so that even now, the late Defense Professor was praised as a hero who had represented the very best of Hogwarts.

…and if there was one such person on the staff, there might be others. Why, even Minerva McGonagall, the _Deputy Headmistress,_ was not above suspicion, given how long she'd been on staff.

The only one they thought they could trust – by virtue of him being a recent hire who couldn't be involved with the conspiracy because he was abroad so often – was the History Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart. Coincidentally, the adventurer happened to be the one man who they thought might have experience dealing with such creatures.

"Right…" Hillard said. "Anyway, to access the Alley, you just tap the bricks in a counter-clockwise order…like so."

The older Ravenclaw proceeded to demonstrate, tapping the wall three times with his wand, as the bricks he touched quivered, wriggled, sighed, with a hole opening in the middle of them, growing wider and wider until the duo faced an archway that opened onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," the Head Boy declared grandly, "to Diagon Alley." He blinked as he saw Shinji's expression stay exactly the same as before.

"This…is it?" Shinji asked, looking puzzled at all the buildup, struggling to understand what he was seeing. " _This_ is the heart of Magical Britain?"

When he'd stepped through the portal to _Mahoutokoro_ , he'd found himself on a ledge overlooking a subterranean cavern – an entire city spread out before him, bustling with magic and mystery. The sight of that had struck him with wonder as to the possibilities of the world he was entering, inspiring him with what could – what _might –_ be.

This place though? Compared to the grandeur and openness of the city of magic he called home in Japan, this…was a back alley accessible only through a dingy pub, as if having the ability to change the world was a shameful secret that one had to hide at all costs.

"You're not impressed," Hillard observed, slightly surprised. "At all. Why is that?"

He was genuinely curious. After all, for him, Diagon Alley had been his first exposure to the world of magic – to the fact that there was an entire society of wizards and witches – that there were others like him and his parents. So why did Matou seem… _disappointed_?

"Because _Mahoutokoro_ was grander," Shinji said simply. He knew why – or at least he thought he did. The jewel of the East had been built with the cooperation of _youkai_ , practitioners of witchcraft, and magi alike, far away from the War which had raged between Church and Association, after all. As such, it was a single, centralized city whose name meant "the place of magic," a place where these abilities and powers were cultivated, respected, _celebrated_ – not hidden away out of shame and fear.

It was likely no coincidence that Durmstrang and Hogwarts were so far away from the Continent, after all, in difficult to reach places that had at various times been described as the end of the earth, or that Beauxbatons was hidden away amidst the craggy peaks of the Pyrenees, while _Mahoutokoro_ 's facilities were beneath the former capital of Japan.

…but then, with the exception of those who were hidden Christians, the influence of the Church in Japan had always been weak, as opposed to largely Christianized Europe.

In his mind, he understood all this. But in his heart, in the very core of him, that knowledge didn't matter. What mattered was that _Mahoutokoro_ was a symbol of what was possible if he walked his path for long enough, if he did not simply ascribe to one set of dictates or another, but forged his future with his own two hands.

And that Diagon Alley, well…

"Grander?" Hillard echoed, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You'd understand if you saw it," Shinji said quietly. "I've grown up with thaumaturgy my entire life, but it wasn't until I went there that…" _'…that I understood that I had a future. That I wasn't just a useless child who had been replaced. That I had my own path.'_

"I see," the older Ravenclaw noted, shaking his head as a wry smile touched his lips. He should have known better than to think Matou would be impressed by this. "Anything else you want to add?"

"Well, now that you ask, I'm not exactly impressed with how the name reads as 'diagonally', a play on how witchcraft isn't in line with the common sense of the world…or maybe on just how crooked the alley is," Shinji remarked blandly. "What next, a place for 'dark artifacts' that sounds like nocturnally?"

Hillard coughed.

"Knockturn Alley," he corrected with amusement, with Shinji letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Anyway, enough dilly-dallying. They're probably almost tired of killing their taste buds in there."

"Let's go in then."

And with that, the duo stepped into Diagon Alley, as the archway closed behind them.

"Well, onwards to Gringotts then," Hillard said brightly.

* * *

The two walked past stacks of shiny cauldrons, shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, and more, though Shinji had seen their like before.

As they walked, though, Shinji couldn't help but notice the snowy white building, an immense edifice that _towered_ over the little shops, with burnished bronze doors marking the only entry point.

"…is that?"

"Mhm," Hillard confirmed. " _That_ , my friend, is Gringotts, the only bank of Magical Britain. Goblin run, of course."

Subtly, he indicated the two figures that flanked the door, clad in uniforms of scarlet and gold. They were about a head or two shorter than Shinji, with swarthy, clever faces, pointed beards and, very long fingers and feet.

'… _not unlike Professor Flitwick.'_

Which was only natural to think, given that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was part-goblin.

The goblins bowed as they walked inside, passing through the bronze doors – and then a set of silver ones, as they entered a vast marble hall, with about a hundred more goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses – including a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"The counter then, I think," Hillard said, heading towards a free goblin, who peered over half-moon spectacles at the two of them.

"Can I help you?" the goblin questioned, in a tone that implied they weren't worth his while.

"I have an appointment," Shinji explained, withdrawing the last letter he'd been sent from his agent at Gringotts and handing it to the goblin, who read the letter closely.

"This seems to be in order," the other said after a moment. "I will have someone take you back to the conference room."

This someone turned out to be Goldfarb, the goblin intermediary that Shinji had retained to negotiate with Black on his behalf.

"I trust you have been…satisfied with the services we have offered so far, sir?" Goldfarb inquired solicitously. "We at Gringotts pride ourselves on being the best bank of Magical Europe, after all."

…which was not terribly difficult when it was the _only_ bank as well, but that was perhaps indelicate to mention.

"Quite so," Shinji responded with a bow. "I most especially appreciate your efforts to keep my identity secure during all of this."

"Of course, sir," the other replied. "You are hardly the first wizard to request such our services, and we do not expect you will be the last. Though you are younger than our usual customer."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not as long as you can pay," the goblin answered, lips pulling back into a toothy smile.

"Ah, _that,_ will certainly not be a problem," the Matou scion assured the goblin. And it wouldn't be, for his money was already in escrow.

The group walked in silence for some time, their footsteps echoing along the marble floor of the bank as Goldfarb walked them to one of the many conference rooms, where Sirius Black sat waiting.

The man stood as they entered, looking over the trio.

"Sirius Black," Goldfarb intoned, looking up at the shaggy-haired wizard. "The buyer is here."

* * *

Seeing two young wizards enter, with the goblin Goldfarb leading them, Black stood, his eyes widening in recognition as he saw the tall, lanky figure of Robert Hillard – a face he recognized from the gossip column of the _Prophet_.

"Robert Hillard," Black noted gruffly, as he strode over to the group and extended his hand. "Read about you in the paper. Hard not to with society gossip being what it is."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Black," the Stone Cutter replied as he clasped Black's hand in a firm handshake, both of his eyebrows lifting upwards in an expression of faint curiosity. "Oh, and what is the gossip these days?"

"Bah, mostly boring things like you holding the Order of Merlin, fighting off trolls and Dark Wizards," the Head of House of Black replied dismissively. "But…" And here Black lowered his voice conspiratorially. "They say you're seeing cousin Dora, something about a romance begun while helping Mad-Eye teach Defense at Hogwarts. A man after my own heart! Just between you and me, how'd you do it?"

"I blew away an army of Dementors with my Patronus," Hillard said dryly, with Black nodding at first, then freezing as the words registered.

"Say. What. _When?"_ Black demanded. "I know Fudge was in a bit of a state since I escaped Azakaban, but Dementors? I thought there were just Hit Wizards at Hogwarts. Or at least there were when I went there to find Wormtail. Did they bring them in after?"

To the side, Shinji covered his mouth, desperately trying to hold in a laugh and managing – barely.

"Of course not, Padfoot," the Head Boy responded smoothly, with Black's eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "And well, it's a long story."

"Heh. Did your research, did you, boy?" the man asked, looking over the seventh year appraisingly. "But then, I suppose you would have had to in order to learn I was planning to sell. Potter told you, I imagine?"

Given that Sirius had only told this to his godson, it was the obvious conclusion. It was, however, unfortunately incorrect.

"Actually, no," Hillard corrected.

"No?" Black asked, blinking. "But then, how did you? Unless Snivellus…"

"Also wrong, because I'm not the buyer," Hillard noted, nodding to Shinji. "He is."

"…"

Black couldn't conceal a look of surprise as he looked between the two young wizards. He had assumed it was the older one, not the one the age of his estranged godson, but apparently he was wrong.

"You?" he asked.

"That is correct, Mister Black," Shinji said with a deferential bow. "Matou Shinji of the Stone Cutter Society, at your service. I brought Robert with me to assist me with the inspection and other such."

"I…see," Black noted eloquently, as he shook his head. "I'll be honest. You're not who I expected to see today. Neither of you are, really." Frankly, he had expected some powerful nobleman from the Continent or some such, or a Quidditch star of some sort, given the extent to which Gringotts had gone to protect the other's identity, not one of his godson's associates.

"What can I say?" Shinji asked, holding out his hand. "Life's full of surprises. Pleasure to meet you, Mister Black."

"And you as well," the Head of the House of Black noted, as he gave the boy from the east a firm handshake. "I daresay this explains why you were so particular about me furnishing and renovating the house for you. After all, you're still in school."

"Indeed," the Matou scion agreed. "I can hardly handle such things from inside Hogwarts, can I? There's a limit to what I can manage through the mail."

"…I'll grant you that," Black allowed. "I imagine you found out I planned to sell from Harry, didn't you?"

"Of course," Shinji answered. It would have been futile to deny it, since there was really no other explanation as to why he knew Black wanted to sell before the man had even announced it.

"Well then, let's get down to business," Black said brightly, as Goldfarb brought in the draft of a deed transferring title of the Black Estate and its lands in its current condition to Matou Shinji, with addenda specifying the renovations that had been done, the furnishings added, and such. "As agreed, the renovations have been made, and the house has been furnished according to your specifications. No house elf will come with the property, however."

"You did inform me of this," Shinji noted.

"Just reminding you," Sirius Black replied, shaking his head. "You wouldn't have wanted him anyway, impudent, disobedient thing that he was. He even had the gall to hide away some valuables and scream at his rightful Master."

"Just out of curiosity, what did you do with him?" Hillard asked.

"Why, I had him put down, of course," Black answered easily. "A house-elf that steals and goes out of his way to twist orders is no good to anyone. He might even have ended up poisoning someone eventually, as some do. I'm sure that Mister Matou will agree that was the right choice?"

"A good assumption," Shinji stated impassively, as he knew that a servant which twisted the orders one gave it could be very dangerous indeed, as that was likely the first sign of greater treachery. And whether or not house-elves had been broken and made to serve years ago, that was immaterial for the purposes of the current discussion. "You mentioned that the Black Library and effects would not be included in the sale either?"

"Correct," Black confirmed. "I've already sold off the effects to various other shops, and the library will be auctioned off following the announcement of the house sale."

"Mm," the Matou scion noted.

"Right. Any other questions?" Black inquired. Seeing none, he smiled broadly. "Great, then its time I show you the house."

A quick stroll and apparition later, the quartet found themselves in the Borough of Islington, standing outside 12 Grimmauld Place, a rather stately residence that looked every bit as elegant as a house belonging to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, thanks to the recent renovations. Prior to those, it had been something of a dilapidated ruin, but enough money could work quite a few miracles.

Given the renovation, it lacked most of the defenses it had once had, but it was still Unplottable, at least, with some other basic protections. And once inside, the interior screamed opulence and splendor.

Taken as a whole, the rooms were sumptuous, ornate, redolent with the earthy scents of cedar, rosewood, and incense, complemented by the warmth of burgundy, maroon, and gold in Moroccan style accents of silk and velvets. Sensual and exotic, intimate without being decadent, luxurious and inviting – it was a house which reminded Shinji of what a home should be.

A place to be safe, a place to be comfortable, a place where he could rest and be at peace.

There was a sense of sturdiness and solidity to it, like at Hogwarts, but without the coldness of stone, or foreign feel of some other magic – a presence he was almost always aware of at Hogwarts. This place would be his to shape as he wished, and the notion of it warmed his heart.

' _Mine…'_

The reception areas featured rich red décor and plush velvet furnishings, highlighted by the soft-light of prana powered lamps and an open wood fireplace, and seemed particularly inviting spaces to relax for a time – albeit with perhaps a touch of ostentation in their gilded, pressed-metal ceilings.

There were a few cozy nooks, hideaways really, near the back of the house with bar stocked with all manner of fine liquor - Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, Swott Malt Whisky, Spiced Mead, and more.

There were studies with space enough for a sizeable library, though the best of these rooms lacked a fine desk as of yet – something easily enough remedied.

The main bedrooms were certainly comfortable, even if in their sensual, exotic aesthetic they would have fit in perfectly with a scene from _A Thousand and One Nights_ , with Hillard giving Shinji an odd _look_ when Black mentioned that he had made sure to make the furnishings attractive and inviting for his female companions. So too were the rooms made for guests on one of the upper floors, though these were somewhat more austere in nature.

Not quite as austere as the workspaces in the basement, however – two of which would become primary workshops, one of which would become a guest workshop, and the last to be used for storage. These were plain, with solid stone furniture for tables and workbenches, and enough space for magic circles to be drawn.

Aside from that, there were the conference rooms, the kitchen, the tea room, dining room and more, with everything very well appointed indeed (as it should be, given exactly how much the Matou scion was paying for it).

And perhaps the crown jewel of the house was the penthouse suite, with floor length windows that could be made opaque, a ceiling that had been charmed to show the sky and give a feeling of utter openness while preserving privacy and more, where an entire suite of rooms had been placed for Shinji's personal use.

There was all this, and more.

"I trust this meets your…rather detailed list of requirements?" Black inquired after they finished the grand tour, with Shinji nodding slowly as he took everything in. "The defenses are rather generic for now, but I thought with your desire for privacy, you would wish to set up anything more specific yourself.

"A good though," the Matou scion asked in turn. "…there is a telephone line installed, I trust? And magical energy to electricity ports?"

"Those were one of the more difficult parts to arrange," Black noted guffly, shaking his head. "But yes, you have those installed, as well as Floo Service until the New Year. Is there anything else?"

"Hillard?" Shinji asked.

"No…I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary," the older boy replied, seeming a little overwhelmed by this display of wealth and extravagance. His own abode was far more humble, as the Hillards had never been part of la crème de la crème of society. "This is…certainly quite a house."

"I did say you were welcome to live in it, if you wished," Shinji reminded his friend. "Tohsaka would find it hard to live here alone, I think."

"…I will certainly keep that in mind," Hillard answered, shaking his head. "When you said a house, I didn't think…"

"If that is all, then let's go back to Gringotts, where we can be done with the paperwork at last, eh?" Black questioned, wishing to conclude their business.

"And you can get your money," Shinji noted dryly, with Black raising an eyebrow at the boy's bluntness, but nodding.

"And that, yes."

There was nothing further to check, so the group headed back to the bank, where the papers were signed, with title to the land and estate passed to Shinji, along with the keys to the house and its rooms, and various bits of info about the defenses.

At long last, it was finished.

"What now?" Shinji asked.

"Now that you have completed the deed, you must file it with the Ministry," Goldfarb said helpfully. "Unfortunately, that is something you must do yourselves, now that the agreement has been signed. Gringotts cannot complete that step of the process for you."

"Oh, very well…" Shinji sighed.

"Kid, you'll get used to it sooner or later," Black reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Or maybe you'll tired of it. That's why I'm going to France, after all."

"You mean you aren't going there to enjoy a rendezvous with the lovely widow Zabini?" Shinji inquired, as Black raised an eyebrow.

"…well, there is that," the former prisoner admitted with a bit of a smirk, deciding not to ask Matou where he got his information. "And yeah, I know what they say, but after over a decade in Azkaban, what's the point in living if you don't feel alive? As for the auction, that will be tomorrow – Gringotts will know where if you wish to send a representative."

"To the Ministry then," Hillard sighed.

And away they went, with the poor official at the Land Registry Office flummoxed by the appearance of Sirius Black and one of the young Stone Cutters, who presented her with a signed and certified deed granting Matou Shinji title to the Black Estate and the lands around it. Frankly, she'd expected a slow day at the office, not the crowds that quickly sprung up when they heard what was going on, nor the impromptu press conference that the two delivered, with Black announcing his intention to leave Britain and sell off his worldly possessions at an auction to be held by Gringotts the following night.

' _They planned this…'_ the official thought to herself. _'What in the world?'_

By tomorrow morning, the picture of Matou Shinji and Sirius Black shaking hands, along with an article detailing how the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had sold his family estate to the young Stone Cutter, and now intended to leave the country, would appear on the front page of every wizarding paper in Magical Britain.

Every paper except the _Quibbler_ , of course.

That one had far more pressing things to write about, such as speculation about the nature of the world beyond the veil, and reports of a grand army of werewolves and giants on the march, led by the shade of a Dark Wizard who commanded them from beyond the grave.

* * *

After the press conference, the duo of Stone Cutters parted ways with Sirius Black, with the older man going to pay a visit to his lover, while the others returned to Gringotts, as Shinji had some other business to take care of.

This time, when he stepped through the doors of Gringotts, he was ushered to the back right away, where he signed over a substantial bonus to the Goblins for their excellent work and asked a number of questions about the auction to occur on the morrow.

"Are you interested in bidding on some items in the Black Collection?" Goldfarb asked, his lips drawn back into an almost predatory smile. "We are of course, willing to assist for a fee."

"Perhaps a few of the more interesting tomes from the library," Shinji suggested. "Anything that would be particularly rare or one of a kind."

"Doable," Goldfarb replied, looking at the boy appraisingly. "Speaking of one-of-a-kind, there is a notable item in the collection you may have some appreciation for."

"Oh?" Shinji remarked. "And what might that be?"

"A writing desk and chair allegedly made from the timbers of the _Golden Hind,_ " the Goblin explained. "A ship I understand to be quite important in the history of you…humans. Acquired before the institution of the Statute of Secrecy, of course."

The _Golden Hind_ – the flagship of Sir Francis Drake, the hero who had defeated the Spanish Armada and circumnavigated the world.

A desk and chair made from its timbers, if in good condition, would be priceless artifacts indeed.

Goldfarb leaned forward over the conference table, seeing that he had Shinji's interest.

"I see you know the name," the goblin murmured. "Most wizards would not, sadly. Given your…generosity to Gringotts in the past, we are willing to sell it to you now, rather than put it up for auction, provided that the price is right."

"Name your price," Shinji stated bluntly. If Gringotts was willing to outright _sell him_ such a thing, he was not going to be foolish enough to say no.

"150,000 Galleons," Goldfarb voiced impassively. "We couldn't possibly go any lower."

"Done," Shinji replied without a moment's hesitation, with the goblin blinking at the boy's confidence.

"You…do not wish to bargain, wizard?" the goblin asked, curious as to this wizard's actions. Realistically, they didn't think they could get more than 20,000 Galleons for it at auction, given that it was not enchanted beyond what little was required to preserve it, so why was this boy paying almost ten times its valuation _on the spot?_

"Why would I?" the Matou scion asked, meeting Goldfarb's eyes with his own steely gaze. "The price was quite right, after all."

And it was, for he had expected nearly double the amount requested. For him, obtaining a priceless artifact like this for such an absurdly low price was nothing short of a steal.

"Perhaps you would be interested in another item we have then?" Goldfarb inquired after a bit of shock. "A book entitled _Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies_, published in 1623. We were intending to pass it to a Muggle auction house, but if you have 500,000 Galleons, we would be willing to part with it…"

More commonly known as the _First Folio_ , it was one of only 750 copies printed, with only around 230 known surviving copies – each of which was worth a fortune.

…in this case, however, it was a fortune Matou Shinji really didn't think he could spare, given that this wasn't exactly a bargain. This was essentially market value, and nearly half of his remaining funds, after his expenditures on the house and everything else.

"Not at this time," Shinji replied.

"Mm, pity. Will that be all then?" the goblin asked. "If so, feel free to sign our retainer agreement. If you wish, you may certainly appear at the auction in person, but we do ask that you notify us before the event itself."

"Understood. Have the desk shipped to 12 Grimmauld Place, please."

With that, they shook hands and Shinji concluded his business, with Hillard shaking his head at how impulsively Shinji seemed to buy things.

"Did you really need to spend that much on a desk?" Hillard questioned, as they were led out into the main hall. "It may be an antique, but surely it wasn't worth that much."

"I think it was worth every knut," Shinji answered. "As I said, there is no need to bargain when the price was indeed quite right."

"Mm, well, your money."

The duo had just walked out of the bank and into the light of Diagon Alley, when they were accosted by someone Matou Shinji found all too familiar.

…after all, one didn't easily forget the face of a person who hurled Killing Curses at oneself.

"Matou," a voice called out, with Shinji turning to see the figure of Tomas – Touko's puppet – exiting Gringotts with a golden cup clutched in one hand. "It's been almost a year since our last encounter. It is good to see you…alive."

He was perhaps the _last_ person the Matou scion had expected to see in Britain, as the last he knew, the puppet was limited to exploring _Mahoutokoro._ Of course, with his Master here, that might have changed, he supposed…

"Ah, Tomas," Shinji acknowledged with a sigh. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"No one ever does," the handsome youth replied, his red eyes almost amused. "And so they don't, usually."

"Friend of yours?" Hillard inquired _sotto voce,_ as he didn't recognize the teenager as a student at Hogwarts, though he seemed about his age by appearance.

"Yes…" Shinji said reluctantly. "He's my Master's…assistant." Turning to the puppet, he made to make introductions, as they seemed inevitable. Robert, this is Tomas, Professor Aozaki's assistant. Tomas, this is Robert, one of my comrades."

The two older teens shook hands.

"A pleasure to meet you," the Head Boy said graciously.

"And yourself," Tomas replied with a smile. "Matou mentioned you as one of his mentors."

"Nothing too bad, I trust?"

"Oh, that you're much easier on him compared to me," the puppet answered. "But then I suppose in another life, had I been born in Britain, I would have been a Slytherin, not a Ravenclaw."

"Ah, that's right, you come from the East," Hillard recalled, as he remembered Matou's master was a Professor at _Mahoutokoro_. "Your English is quite good, I have to say. If I didn't know better I'd think you were from here."

"You are too kind," Tomas said. "As for my English, well, you should thank Matou's Master. It was Professor Aozaki who made me what I am today, after all, and she spent a considerable amount of time in Britain once."

Shinji's face almost twitched at whatever game Tomas was playing this time. The puppet had always been good with words, after all.

"So what brings you here, Tomas?" Shinji inquired, wondering what the man was doing in Britain, where in another life he'd had…quite a past.

"Well, our Master happens to be visiting, as you well know," the puppet responded reproachfully. "And while she has an appointment with the Potions Master of Hogwarts, I have been assigned to do her shopping."

"…did she forget to give you money?" Shinji asked, feeling the urge to cradle his head in his hands. Frankly, it wouldn't be the first time, though how she expected Tomas to have access to Gringotts was…

'… _wait.'_

"Ah, it was no trouble," Tomas replied, a hint of a sly smile crossing his lips as he fingered the item in his hands - a small golden cup with two finely-wrought handles, engraved with a badger. "A…friend gave me access to her account should I need it, after all."

"A…friend," Hillard repeated. "Much like Matou's…friends, no doubt."

Was it _this_ person who had taught Matou how to charm others?

"I wouldn't know," the puppet said blandly. "In any case, I have been tasked with buying a number of reagents, artifacts, and other such. In particular, the silk and carapaces of giant spiders, but those are in short supply everywhere."

Shinji blinked, a thought coming to mind. If his Master needed such things, well…

' _Perhaps I will forfeit my share of the funds from the venom and see what I can gain from selling the other parts instead?'_

"Robert, would you terribly mind going to _Twilfitt and Tattings?"_ he asked mildly. "We do have to get ourselves measured and such before they can make the…items."

"The…items you say, Matou?" Hillard inquired, letting the question hang for a moment before shaking his head. "Well, I suppose I'll go then. I will see you there, I suppose?"

"Indeed. See you there, Robert," Shinji agreed, seeing the other boy off before turning to the puppet. Thankfully, it didn't seem anyone was around. "Giant spiders, Tomas?"

"Walk with me, and we'll talk," Tomas related. "I think what I need is probably best found in Knockturn Alley. They might have some Acromantula parts there."

"Acromantula parts, huh?" Shinji echoed. "I might have a source…"

Tomas just _looked_ at the boy for a second, before what he said clicked.

"…oh, I see," the puppet noted. "Hagrid's pet spawned, did it?"

Shinji stopped cold, eyes narrowing as he heard the name.

"Hagrid's…pet?" he repeated quietly. "Do you mean…Rubeus Hagrid?"

"Indeed," Tomas confirmed, a touch of amusement in his voice. "The man kept on as groundskeeper by Albus Dumbledore, and subsequently used as his agent in all things."

Shinji nearly scowled at this revelation, given that he remembered Dumbledore well, and how the man had a record of allowing dangerous things at Hogwarts and having an utter disregard for the safety of the students.

'… _well, this confirms my suspicions of faculty covering for each other,'_ he thought. And it was a conspiracy that had reached to the highest levels of Hogwarts, no less.

Which only made Professor McGonagall more suspicious to him. For if _Albus Dumbledore_ , the late headmaster, had been instrumental in the plot to conceal the existence of an Acromantula colony, then everyone he had been involved with was also suspect.

…even Professor Snape, sadly enough.

"And exactly how do you know this?" Shinji asked, his eyes demanding an answer from the puppet.

"Don't ask a question you already know the answer to, Matou," Tomas chided, and Shinji nodded, for he had a point. Tomas – in his former incarnation as Riddle – had likely been there. "And further, do be aware that if you wish to hunt them, Acromantula do possess a level of resistance to spells."

"…that much I am aware of, but I am not without options," Shinji noted calmly.

"Are you now?" the puppet asked, holding the boy's gaze for a moment. "Well, I would be greatly interested in seeing that when you are next in Japan."

'… _damnit,'_ Shinji thought to himself, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

"I do look forward to any updates on the situation," Tomas noted. "Perhaps you might consider commissioning a pair of Vanishing Cabinets so you can send messages back and forth with more ease – and no risk of interception."

"Oh?"

"And if you desire other artifacts, perhaps you should go to _Borgin and Burkes_ in Knockturn Alley," the puppet continued. "They usually have a large and varied assortment of such things."

"I'll take your word for it."

* * *

Not having anything better to do, Matou Shinji took made his way over to Knockturn Alley, a shopping area off to the side of Diagon Alley filled with rather dangerous looking individuals, though none of them bothered him as he walked in.

Which was fine with him, as he was rather dangerous himself.

 _Borgin and Burkes_ was easy enough to find, given the rather prominent sign, and he walked in the door to find a large dimly lit shop with plenty of very _interesting_ things scattered about.

"Mister Matou of the Stone Cutters, what a surprise to find you in my shop," A stooping man appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face. "How may I be of assistance?"

"You can," Matou Shinji replied, eying the man he supposed was probably the proprietor of the shop. "Would you be Mister Borgin or Mister Burke?"

"Borgin," the other uttered, in a voice as oily as his hair. "You looking for unusual and ancient wizarding artefacts then? I have a few rather interesting items, just in today and very reasonably priced—"

"Do you have anything from the Black Estate?" the Stone Cutter inquired, cutting the man off. "I have recently come into possession of the property and would like to see if any…heirlooms might have found their way to your store."

"I understand, sir. Of course," the man agreed quickly, bidding for Shinji to follow. It was not every day one had what was likely an extremely wealthy customer in one's shop, after all. "We have a number of interesting artifacts, but what you may be most interested in is _this_."

The man produced a cushion, on which rested a large, oval locket of heavy gold, with an intricate pattern of green jewels set into the metalwork.

"A rare and valuable treasure, dating back to the days of the Founders, I am sure," Borgin continued, attempting to hype up the piece to the boy. "It is unfortunately sealed, but no doubt there is some rare treasure to be found, given that it was indeed…from the Black Collection."

That and thought maybe he could pawn off a necklace which wouldn't open onto a boy who was obviously wealthy and foreign. He'd only spent ten Galleons acquiring it each time, after all, and this seemed like an easy mark.

Shinji looked at it, noting the beauty of the glittering green stones, which resembled nothing so much as a serpent. To him, it _felt_ odd, very much like the diadem had…

'… _like the diadem, eh? Perhaps Sion would appreciate this item…'_

"How much?" he asked the owner blandly, with the other deciding to take a stab in the dark.

"Five thousand Galleons," Mr. Borgin…suggested, knowing the other would negotiate him down from this ridiculous starting point.

"Done," Shinji replied at once, with the other blinking and smiling broadly.

"And what else can I help you with, sir?" the man asked. "Would you be interested in a one-of-a-kind Vanishing Cabinet? Anything you put into it will simply…vanish."

Normally, they came in pairs, serving as a passage between two places, with objects placed in one cabinet disappearing in another, but for whatever reason, the other cabinet of this set had been lost, and Borgin wasn't about to risk finding out where the other end was. Perhaps it led into some powerful family's house, or into a prison of some sort.

He didn't know, and he didn't ask questions, since he didn't want to be held accountable for anything the owners did with these items. He was just the supplier, after all.

"Interesting," Shinji noted, thinking that if it were a one-off, then Touko might like to study it, and if not, well, maybe the other end would be somewhere interesting. "How much?"

"I'll give it to you cheap, since you seem like a good lad," Borgin replied in his oily voice. "A thousand Galleons, and that's cutting my own throat."

"I can do that," Shinji agreed, with Borgin going on to show him quite a few more items, like Hands of Glory and the like, even a stuffed Acromantula.

"And where would you like this delivered?" the shopkeeper asked.

"Deliver everything but the stuffed Acromantula to 12 Grimmauld Place," he directed. "That item should be sent to Matou Zouken, via _Mahoutokoro._ "

"International package, eh?" Borgin noted. "It will get expensive."

"I can pay," Shinji said blandly, as the other nodded.

"Right you are sir."

With that, he walked out of the shop, and headed to _Twilfitt and Tattings_ to be measured for his wyvernhide garments, before moving on to a shop for Vanishing Cabinets, where he commissioned a large set for himself, to be ready when it was ready, though there were a few small ones he bought on the spot.

' _A pair to send messages to and from Atlas. A pair for Touko. And one for Sion's personal use…'_

As for the other gifts he would get people, he thought most wouldn't mind some candy, so he made a few more purchases before mailing off a parcel he'd gotten from Lockhart for Zouken, containing a number of books, an artifact or two, and something about the size of a shoebox.

Among his purchases were:

Crystallized Pineapple for Sion - small pieces of pineapple cooked in sugar syrup and encrusted with sugar crystals.

Some wizarding Christmas crackers and a box of sugared butterfly wings for Sakura, made with organic butterflies, organic dark chocolate, milk, sugar, and coconut

Scarves and gloves for each members of the Ourea, along with a selection of candy for each. Draco Malfoy, notably, received Cockroach Clusters – sweets quite literally made of cockroaches.

A pack of Spindle's Lick'O'Rish Spiders for Ron Weasley to remind him to keep his mouth shut, liquorice-flavoured sweets shaped like spiders and bewitched to seem alive.

An enchanted notebook for Hermione, an item that would craft illustrations from the owner's imagination when the owner wrote in the book, allowing her to bring stories she imagined to life. He thought that would be a fitting gift.

And for Luna, a signed first edition of _Le Petit Prince_ that he'd found in a rare book shop, with the author having written " _It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye"_ as an inscription. Quite fitting, he thought.

* * *

That night, Matou Shinji slept under an unfamiliar ceiling - a ceiling that was for once in his life, _his_. And that solstice night, he _dreamed_.


	25. Wolf in Winter

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 25.** _Wolf in Winter_

On his first real exposure to London, Matou Shinji was not at all surprised to find out that it was not entirely unlike Kyoto, a city in which he'd spent a considerable length of time since leaving Fuyuki, at least in its sense of age. In some respects, the city, like so many others in Europe, was a living monument to the past, but at the same time, the tension of the encroaching future could be felt from the glass and steel edifices that dominated the skyline.

It was radically different from say, Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, places which seemed isolated from the flow of time, as if things would be the same in a century no matter how the world moved on, with mystery proving a sharp counterpoint to modernity.

At least _Mahoutokoro_ , a place of refuge and sanctuary for those of the Moonlit World in Japan, acknowledged the events and importance of the happenings of the outside world, training its acolytes to be able to function in modern society, but then the supernatural had always been a part of the culture of Japan.

Here, though, as he emerged from the Leaky Cauldron out onto Charing Cross Road with the Boy-Who-Lived besides him, he was surprised to see Harry's reaction to the city: a sense of surprise and unfamiliarity, though he'd grown up in Surrey, not too far from London.

"You don't really come here often, do you?" Shinji asked quietly as they walked from the dimness of the tavern into the morning light, noting the cars passing by on the road.

"I don't," Harry confirmed. Except for trips to and from King's Cross – and that rather ill-fated trip to the Zoo, this marked one of the first times he had set foot in what used to be the center of the world, the capital of an empire upon which the sun never set. "I've spent more time…" _'In the wizarding world.'_

A world where he was acknowledged, even if that acknowledgement had come at a high price. A world where he was a hero to people. A world where he was someone instead of just another face in the crowd.

…even if had learned to move quickly through crowds and tried not to draw undue attention to himself, lest he be accosted by someone seeking a picture or an autograph.

"So where are we going today?" he asked Shinji, who seemed somewhat more comfortable here. "And why are we going into London?"

"Well, since one of my friends is coming over from Japan, I thought it would be good to get to know the city a little bit," the Matou scion answered with a smile. True, he had received a small hand-written guide to the City – including who to talk to at the Museum for more information about the gala – this morning from his Master, but having a book about a place wasn't the same thing as knowing a place.

Feeling the rhythms with which the city moved, the atmosphere of it, the pace and energy of its denizens – how it felt to walk from place to place or take the Tube. The best travel guide might capture a sliver of all this, offering hints and tips as to where to go, what to take, and other such, but it was at best an overlooking view, just information without context.

' _There is a danger from being too separated from the world, from the present…'_

So his Master had taught him when he'd stepped into Kyoto Station all those years ago, and it was a lesson that remained with him even now.

"Right. You mentioned Tohsaka," Harry recalled, shaking his head as he remembered the girl who Shinji had described as the Second Owner of Fuyuki – someone nominally in charge of the land, almost like nobility. Though that raised questions in and of itself… "Why is she coming to Britain anyway?"

"To study," Shinji replied, glancing down the road towards Trafalgar Square, the great public heart of London once called Charing, and then Charing Cross, after a memorial cross that had been raised on the square. "Both of our families have ties to Britain, after a fashion."

"Will she be…at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. He didn't think the school took transfer students, after all. Matou's mother had gone to Hogwarts, so he had a direct connection to the school, but the other…

"No," the Matou scion answered, shaking his head. "Not there."

"Not…the Wizarding Academy of the Dramatic Arts then?" Harry knew that was a stretch, since in his brief meeting with her, Tohsaka Rin hadn't seemed like someone who liked the limelight. Still, it seemed more likely than the Euro-Glyph School of Extraordinary Languages or the like – though Tohsaka did need work on her English.

"Not exactly." For a moment, Shinji frowned as he sought to find a way to explain it without giving away too much about the Moonlit World, as his thoughts turned to the Tower – and the Museum which served as its public front. _'Aha.'_ "Have you heard of the Grand Tour?"

"The Grand…what?" Harry echoed.

"The Grand Tour," Shinji repeated. Seeing no sign of recognition on his friend's face, he proceeded to explain, in effect passing on what Lockhart had told him about the adventurer's own trip around Europe. "Apparently, it used to be a tradition where young nobles and other well-to-do people would travel around the known world to learn about art, culture, fashion and history. A rite of passage as well."

"Huh," Harry noted thoughtfully, recalling that Magical Britain had no such tradition, with many young people never leaving the country where they were born at all. "Is that what she's doing here?"

"Yes," Shinji confirmed, nodding at his friend's question. "As the heiress to her family, she's been well trained in her craft. Now her priority is learning more about the world and what masters of the art have to offer."

"Huh, so she'll be something like an artist-in-residence?" Harry inquired, as the picture of Tohsaka Rin as an artist in her workshop, clad in a paint spattered smock, with a brush in one hand and palette in the other, came unbidden to his mind. The image was surprisingly charming. "That sounds wicked."

"Close enough," the boy from the east allowed. And it was, really, given that during her time at the Tower, she'd be given a studio space to work on her craft, with special access to the Association's resources and faculty.

"Mm, I wonder what that must be like…" Harry mused, shaking his head with a sigh. "I've never really seen much art before, aside from the things in Hogwarts. I've never even been to a museum."

"Never?" Shinji asked, blinking in confusion.

"Never," Harry repeated. "The Dursleys – they never took me anywhere if they could help it. And I don't think I've seen one anywhere in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley."

"I don't think that side of the world cares much about preserving the past, or about things like art too much," Shinji reflected distantly, remembering a conversation he'd had with a somewhat melancholic Pansy Parkinson on the matter. "After all, it's a world where everything will be the way it was, more or less. Just look at how History was until Lockhart showed up…"

"…you have a point," Harry muttered. "A world where no one remembers what really happened, where the knowledge of the past isn't valued. Isn't there a saying about those who fail to learn from history being doomed to repeat it?"

Lockhart _had_ mentioned this as one of the reasons Dark Lords kept rising again, and again, and _again_ , because the system was _broken_. As terrifying and cruel as they had been in their own right, Dark Lords were but symptoms of an underlying disease, their reigns of terror made possible by the corruption of this society in hiding – the lies of natural superiority and hypocritical self-righteousness that Magical Britain was founded on.

Beliefs, Lockhart pointed out, were dangerous things, especially beliefs about people being naturally superior or naturally evil. Why, after all, was one House at Hogwarts singled out as being a hive of Dark Wizards in training and shunned by the others? Why were those who didn't fit in with wizarding society – which by its own admission was a culture of oddballs and recluses – shunned – unless they proved themselves powerful? Why did the Fountain at the Ministry depict other magical races effectively worshipping wizards and witches when the reality was far different?

So much of what was held to be tradition just didn't stand up to close scrutiny.

"There is that saying, yes," Shinji murmured, shaking his head. "It's why I don't plan to stay in Britain after I finish my studies at Hogwarts. It's only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down."

"You're not? Why the house then?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "You…you didn't buy it _just_ to impress Tohsaka, did you?"

"Of course not," Shinji replied. That had been only _one_ of his motives in doing so, though admittedly the prospect of seeing her reaction to the house was a very amusing one. "I'm just…I'm keeping my options open."

"…of course you are, Matou," Harry said, his lips twitching into a crooked smile as he thought of a different set of 'options' the boy could be holding onto. "I understand."

"Besides, I might stay for a while," the boy from the east added, missing the implications of his friend's jibe entirely. "Who knows? Four years is a long time. Four years ago…"

Four years ago, he couldn't have imagined being where he was today. Back then, the world began and ended with Fuyuki, and it seemed his destiny would be to live out his life in that town, in the shadow of Tohsaka, his _sister,_ and everyone else. To be used by his family for whatever they needed, and no doubt used up in the process.

"…yeah," Harry agreed. "Four years ago I was back at the Dursleys. I didn't have a clue about this…other world."

Shinji recalled a line from the book of Shakespeare's plays Hermione had given him that first Christmas – the one he'd traded away for his spare wand. While reading _Hamlet_ , one of the passages stuck out to him…

"' _There are more things in heaven and Earth, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy,'"_ he quoted, with Harry tilting his head as he tried to place it.

"That sounds like something Lovegood might say," the Boy-Who-Lived remarked.

"It's from a play actually," Shinji corrected. "Although it does sound like her."

"A play?"

" _Hamlet_ , by William Shakespeare," the Matou scion supplied. "One of the great tragedies the man wrote."

"I've never read Shakespeare," Harry mused. "But then I haven't seen much Muggle literature in the last few years."

"Muggle?" Shinji repeated wryly. "Didn't you grow up in…?"

"It's not really my world anymore," Harry explained, shrugging. "It used to be, but everything I know, everything I've earned – everything that matters to me is…"

"I guess I can see that," Shinji allowed with a soft chuckle. "Well, in that case, shall we play tourist? Beats being mobbed by crowds in the Alley. And we're not wearing robes, so we'd fit in well enough."

"That…sounds like fun," Harry admitted. "Let's go."

And so the two wandered through the great city.

They passed through Trafalgar Square, home of the grand column commemorating the victory of Admiral Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar, bordered by rich cultural spaces and museums, visiting the National Gallery, the old church called St. Martin-in-the-Fields (which had once indeed been in the fields, far from the city limits of Roman London, but now was in its very heart), and more.

From there they meandered over to Piccadilly Circus, a place named in honor of a tailor in the area that had popularized the piccadil – a large broad collar of cut-work lace that was quite fashionable in the late 16th century and early 17th century. Thus, Piccadilly Circus (circus indicating its circular shape) simply meant the roundabout closest to the tailor's house.

Of course, with the opening of new streets and redevelopment over the years, the area was no longer a roundabout, but it was still a highly trafficked area – the Times Square of London, with billboards and signs in neon lights advertising products from Coca-Cola, McDonald's, and more. Unlike Trafalgar Square, this area was not a place of museums, of reflection on the past, but of the glorious, eternal present.

Theatres, restaurants, and more surrounded the place – and even something as old and venerated as the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, erected in honor of the philanthropic works of the Victorian Era Lord Shaftesbury, had been ignored and even vandalized.

Though the fountain still stood in the square, it lacked its usual crowds, as the statue which normally topped it, one of the most famous in all of Britain, was missing – the aluminum statue most called Eros, but which had been intended by the one who commissioned it to be Angel of Christian Charity, and by the artist as Anteros, twin of Eros, the god of requited love.

So the two walked past the monument without making a wish, or even taking note, with Harry more surprised by the neon lights and the many, many signs.

"Shall we have lunch?" Shinji proposed.

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed.

Like many tourists, they ate at the Criterion, a historic neo-Byzantine restaurant complex that was one of the oldest and finest in the world – a veritable cathedral to food both in the delectable European fare it offered, as well as the sheer opulence of the gold mosaic ceilings, marble walls and sculptures, and sumptuous furnishings.

And then they wandered on, heading to the place Shinji had picked out as the ultimate destination of the day: the British Museum.

* * *

For Matou Shinji, the day had been fairly enjoyable so far, though it hadn't started off that way. He'd awoken that morning from dreams of shadows, blood and flames, one he hadn't had since he'd obtained a familiar. It had been strange, because in those dreams he'd known fear.

At this point, he wasn't afraid of simple monsters like trolls or giant spiders. They were powerful and brutal yes, but they were enemies he could fight, enemies he could face, enemies he could stand against, if not _beat._ They might best him. They might even kill him, but they would not _destroy_ him, given the legacy he held now in Magical Britain.

No, the things he feared were far worse than monsters. They were the doubts he harbored in his heart of hearts, the thought that he might fail, might be dismissed as worthless by those whose opinion he cared about most.

People like Sion Eltnam Atlasia, the Director of Atlas, whose elegance and power was a goal for which he strived, as he wanted to be able to meet her as an equal one day.

People like Aozaki Touko, his Master, who had shown him a new world of possibilities, had accepted him as an apprentice, had acknowledged him as being worth _something._

People like his grandfather, the patriarch of the Matou family, who had once dismissed him and his father as nothing, but had deigned to give him a second chance.

Even people like Luna, whose encouragement kept him on his path, who challenged him, made sure he did not, _could not_ rest on his laurels, reminding him that while he was known and respected at Hogwarts, there was an entire world beyond it.

In his dreams, dreams so vivid and intense he didn't know if he was asleep or awake, he found himself amidst shadows and blood, fire and steel, running, and running…and running. Sometimes he fought, facing monstrosities made of shadow twice as tall as trolls. Sometimes he stood his ground and was killed, run through by an invisible sword. Sometimes he wore a wrist-mounted blade and plunged it mercilessly into his adopted _sister_ 's heart, as she stared up at him, eyes wide with betrayal and pain.

Sometimes, he stood atop the crenellations of a castle much like Hogwarts, and as red robed figures closed in across the rooftop, he threw himself from its ramparts towards the lake shining below.

He had woken up this morning exhausted, feeling that he hadn't slept all night, and for several long moments thereafter, he had frozen, thinking that he could hear something _whisper_ from the abyss between the nameless stars.

He'd listened intently, trying to pinpoint where it had come from, or what it was saying, but there'd been nothing, so he'd forced himself to calm down –

 _Bzzt!_

—before the doorbell rang.

Stifling a curse, Shinji had simply thrown on his Hogwarts robes and made his way downstairs to the door, where he peered through the peephole to see a regrettably familiar figure standing outside.

Shaking his head, he'd opened the door, as the puppet most called Tomas pushed his way inside.

"A nice house," Tomas had remarked, looking around at the furnishings. "Though I remember it as being…darker."

"…renovations." Shinji had not really been in much of a mood to talk. He had pretty much just woken up from a nightmare.

"So I read." The puppet had produced a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ with a picture of Matou Shinji and Sirius Black on the front page. "You didn't mention your acquisition the other day."

"I didn't see the need," Shinji had replied, wondering why the puppet was even here. "You had your own errands to run for our Master, after all."

"I suppose I can grant that." Tomas's response seemed faintly…disapproving, but Shinji willed himself not to react. "In any case, I am here for two reasons today, one of which is an errand from our Master. Something about a message she didn't want to leave to chance."

"Oh. Well." The Matou scion had stiffened, startled to attention. "What can I do for you, Tomas?"

The puppet had handed him a packet of papers, along with a guidebook to London.

"From Aozaki Touko," Tomas had said. "She was concerned you would not know how to get around London, and would…look foolish."

"That's…very kind of Master," Shinji had noted, nodding. "Was there anything else?"

"She said that further information would be available at the British Museum. I presume she included the details in her letter," the puppet had drawled. "Though there was one other matter."

"Yes?"

"You went to _Borgin and Burkes._ " There was no question in the puppet's remark, as he _knew_ very well what had happened. "Where are the items you purchased?"

"Which items might these be?" Shinji had asked. He'd bought so many the other day, after all, something which he regretted slightly the morning after, given that after buying the Black Estate and all the other items he'd been offered, he only had something like a million Galleons remaining of the wealth he'd collected from the Room of Hidden Things.

' _It won't last forever. There might be another couple million in there, if I take care to find valuables, but the majority of the easily harvested money is gone.'_

The fight against the Acromantulas would probably prove profitable, if he found a place to sell the resultant carapace and silk, but there had to be something beyond that, something more sustainable.

"I think you know which items I mean." The puppet's expression had darkened at that, as his red eyes stared at the boy. "The locket, for one. Give it to me."

" _ **No."**_

Shinji's response had been instantaneous, surprising both of them.

"No, Matou?" Tomas had asked, his voice mild but dangerous all the same, with Shinji intimidated by the utter intensity of the puppet's gaze. "Not even if I give you the 5000 Galleons you paid for it?"

"No," Shinji had repeated, his grey eyes defiant. "I bought that locket as a gift for someone special to me. I won't just give it to you."

"What if I were to give you a locket in exchange then?" Tomas offered, withdrawing a golden octagonal locket on a heavy gold chain from his robes. "An heirloom of the Black family, belonging to its late heir, Regulus Arcturus Black."

"My answer is still no."

The two had just looked each other, fighting a silent war of wills, before Tomas conceded, shaking his head.

"You've grown, Matou," the puppet had noted rather bluntly. "I suppose you intend to give the locket to the Director of Atlas, then?"

Shinji had swallowed. How had Tomas known that? Was he—

"No, I am not reading your mind," the puppet had continued dismissively. "I do not need such a thing to know who is most important to you."

Tomas had laughed then, a cold almost cruel sound in the morning light that went on for nearly a minute before he stopped.

"I suppose I do not understand such attachment. Nevertheless, I do recognize its power," the puppet had conceded. For a long moment, Tomas had looked at him before handing over the octagonal locket. "You have shown me something interesting, so I suppose this will be a gift. Merry Christmas, Matou Shinji."

The boy from the east had blinked, not knowing what to make of the puppet's change in mood.

"You're giving this to me?" he'd questioned, wondering why Tomas would do such a thing.

"Indeed," the puppet had noted with a cold chuckle, as he pressed the cold metal into the boy's hands. "Enjoy your day, Matou."

And with that, Tomas had left, with Shinji taking a long, cold shower to cleanse himself of the feeling of dread he sometimes felt around the puppet. Deciding that he needed something to distract him from his dreams, he decided to head to Diagon Alley to change his wizarding money for British pounds – and to write Harry, who might be available as a tour guide of sorts, since Shinji knew he'd grown up around London.

* * *

Overall, the day had been pleasant enough, with wandering the streets of London doing wonders for Shinji's mood, though he grew more somber as he and the Boy-Who-Lived approached the British Museum.

To the public, it was one of the most prestigious museums in the world, with a collection drawn from all from all continents of the world illustrating and documenting the story of human culture from its humble beginnings to the present day. And it _was_ that, certainly, but for those of Moonlit World, it was far more.

For the British Museum was also the home of the Clock Tower, the current headquarters and main branch of the Association, with its departments and the workshops of its members located deep beneath the earth.

'… _I wonder what it's like…'_

If the splendor of the Museum was just the veneer that most saw, who knew what wonders it concealed. But then, Shinji would be the first to admit that he had a bias for institutions that were hidden beneath the earth, perhaps because in his youth, the basement had always been the place that was off limits, the place of power for his grandfather.

The worm pit.

Surely the Association wasn't a pit of worms trying to tear each other to pieces though, he thought.

Up the steps they went, towards the main entrance of the museum – which look for all the world like a Greek temple. And why shouldn't it? Literally speaking, a museum could be said to be shrine to the Muses, after all, the goddesses of literature, science, history, and the arts.

"So this is the British Museum?" Harry asked in a hush as he stepped through the doors, feeling a chill at the _weight_ of history here. He'd been the National Gallery earlier in the day, but this was a place for more than just paintings. This was a place where the past was enshrined and studied.

"Indeed," Shinji replied, looking around and picking up a booklet on the way in. "It's my first time here too, so I can't tell you much."

Flipping through the pamphlet, he found that he had missed out on a number of Japanese-centric exhibits earlier in the year, involving the Japanese cartoon tradition, prints from the Ukiyo-e school, a collection of Noh masks, and an exhibit by Hamada Chimei, known for art based on his experiences in military services – the experience of suffering, absolute obedience, and absurdity, all captured on canvas with a sarcastic, scathing undertones.

Still, there were some exhibits that seemed interesting, such as an exhibition of gold and silver from Roman Britain, the artwork of Kawanabe Kyosai (1831-1889), an individualist and an independent, perhaps the last virtuoso in traditional Japanese painting, and an exhibition on chess pieces, including the famous Lewis Chessmen – pieces of elaborately worked walrus ivory and whales' teeth in the forms of seated kings and queens, mitred bishops, knights on their mounts, standing warders and pawns in the shape of obelisks thought to have been made nearly a thousand years ago.

And of course, there was the little matter of the Rosetta Stone and the colossal bust of Ramses II which had inspired the Percy Shelley to write _Ozymandias._

There was no putting off the inevitable any longer though, now that he was here.

"Where should we go first?" Harry asked, unsure of which direction – which gallery to choose. There was just so _much_ to look through, so many possibilities…it reminded him of the first time Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley. The memory sparked something in him, namely an irrational urge to visit the gift shop, but he didn't want to bother Matou too much.

"…actually, if you wouldn't mind waiting in the gift shop, I have some business I need to take care of," Shinji noted quietly. "Unless you want to see the Rosetta Stone or something."

"Business?" Harry rejoined, nonplussed. What business could his friend have in a museum?

"I was invited to a function here by my Master, and I was told to come here for details," Shinji related, with Harry shaking his head.

"I see," he said. The Boy-Who-Lived supposed he shouldn't be surprised at this. "Alright, I don't mind waiting."

He wanted to go anyway.

"Great. I'll see you in a few then," Shinji said, walking over to a guard and flashing something that looked like a ticket, before he was escorted to an elevator and descended beneath the earth.

* * *

Most of the magi of the tower would agree that there were three great disasters within the Association – encountering Gazamy the Wraith, receiving a Sealing Designation or otherwise raising the ire of the higher-ups enough that Enforcers were dispatched to…neutralize a problem. But among the clerks and receptionists who worked for the Clock Tower, magi of passable talent but would never amount to anything exceptional, it was generally agreed that an unexpected meeting with Aozaki Aoko was pretty much the worst disaster possible.

After all, the Fifth Magician didn't exactly frequent the administrative levels, and when she came, she tended to be irate, as something had happened with her pay.

"…what do you mean the money was already wired to my account?!" the master of the Fifth Magic demanded, her hand slamming down on Octavia Leyland's desk with enough force to make the woman flinch. "I just checked. There's nothing in there."

"Miss Blue, please," the receptionist said, swallowing as she beheld the…annoyance of a True Magician. "I can show you a copy of the wire receipt if you'd like. Payment was rendered in full."

' _She's not really_ angry,' Octavia told herself. _'She's just annoyed. If she was angry, I'd already be dead…'_

After all, it was well known that magicians were monsters whose power extended far beyond that of any simple magus of the present age, and Aozaki Aoko in particular was known for her capacity for destruction.

"Ugh…" Aoko groaned, sighing. "This hasn't happened for over a month."

"Well, Miss Blue, we…."

"Right, right, I get it," the Magician huffed. "It's my _sister_ again…"

A sister people knew better than to mention to her face, given that the Aozaki sisters _hated_ one another. Why, the master of the Fifth Magic went so far as to dislike the entire discipline of Runes because her _sister_ used them, just as the puppetmaster who had achieved the highest rank in the Tower disliked Numerology and related things because of _her_ sister.

Before the Magician could say anything further, the elevator chimed, with a young oriental boy stepping out of it, his hair so black it was almost blue. This was fairly odd in itself, given that easterners were not common at the Tower, but his youth was also peculiar.

"He can go first," the Magician growled, shaking her head. "I know this is going to take a while."

"As you say," Miss Leyland said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe today _wouldn't_ be such a bad day then, if the Magic Gunner was going to take time to calm down.

Unfortunately, this was not to be.

Shinji, of course, bowed in thanks, thinking that the woman with the long red hair looked somehow familiar, though he didn't recognize her immediately.

"Good afternoon!" the receptionist greeted, flashing the boy a winning smile, which the youth returned hesitantly. "My name is Octavia Leyland, receptionist for the Tower. What can I do for you?"

"Good afternoon," Matou Shinji spoke. "My Master told me to report to the Tower for details on the Christmas gala?"

"Ah, that we can do," Miss Leyland said brightly. "Could you tell me your name, the name of your Master, and the one who invited you, please?"

And that was the moment everything went wrong.

"Matou Shinji, apprentice to Aozaki Tou—" he began, before an overwhelming wave of killing intent, greater than anything he'd ever felt before, brought him to his knees. This…this wasn't even like that false TATARI, or his grandfather. This was beyond his Master.

This could only be…

"… _Blue…_ " he croaked out, as those terrible blue eyes bore into him, icy and cold, as if the specter of death before him was weighing his life in her hands.

"Indeed. And you are my older sister's apprentice," the Magic Gunner noted coolly, icy cold killing intent pressing down on Matou Shinji even more, threatening to drive away his consciousness entirely, but with the tenacity of a cockroach, he hung on to awareness.

If he fell here, he'd never see Sokaris again. Would never see…the one whose shadow he chased. Would never catch u—

And then the killing intent lifted, as Aozaki Aoko folded her arms and sighed.

"I'm…I'm alive…" Shinji said, panting as his body was finally able to move again.

"Of course you are," the Magician replied rather grumpily. "I'm not my sister after all. I value human life."

Gingerly, the Boy from the East felt his arms and legs to make sure they were still there, and with supreme force of will, heaved himself to his feet. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done – his body still felt like stone, but he wasn't surprised. It seemed that he'd managed to anger – his _Master_ had managed to anger – one of the monsters in human form who wielded a True Magic.

"I can see that," he said, bowing deeply to the red-haired woman. "Thank you."

"Feh, don't thank me," Aoko grumbled, though she couldn't hide a bit of curiosity. "What prompted her to take you as an apprentice anyway?"

"...the one who invited me to the gala," Shinji stated, re-centering himself by thinking that soon he'd see Sokaris again. Soon… "The Director of Atlas."

This caught the Magician's attention – with the Matou scion having no idea if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Oho, Sion Eltnam Atlasia herself, eh?" the Magician murmured, whistling slightly. "She has caused quite a stir lately, with the Philosopher's Stone of hers, curing vampirism and changing things to gold." Aoko smiled crookedly at this. "So, if you know her, think you could pay back what my older sister took?"

"How much?" Shinji asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Oh, just four million pounds," Aoko mentioned off-handedly, as Shinji's eyes widened.

' _Four million pounds? Master…why?'_

"Do you want that in solid gold?" Shinji asked resignedly. That…would effectively wipe out most of what he left, leaving him with just over a hundred thousand Galleons.

"Wait, you _can?"_ the Magician inquired, seeming somewhat surprised. "I'm surprised. You're actually a decent human being."

Shinji blinked.

"…what made you think I wouldn't be?" he asked.

"You're my older sister's apprentice," Aoko said bluntly, before shaking his head. She was silent for a moment, looking at him as if considering something, before she made up her mind. "Alright, tell you what, you don't have to pay me. Solid gold is too much trouble anyway."

Shinji nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but then the Magician kept talking.

"Just take her a message that I expect my money back by the end of the year," the Magic Gunner concluded with a smile. "She'll probably ask you for a loan, but that's hardly my problem is it?" Then, Aozaki Aoko smiled. "I'll see you at the Gala, Shinji," she said, "I'll be sure to let the Old Man know my sister's apprentice is in town."

And with that, she was gone.

"Old Man?" Shinji found himself asking.

"…she means Zelretch. The Wizard Marshal," Octavia Leyland supplied, thankful beyond words there had been no property damage or bloodshed. "Let me get you your papers."

With her usual efficiency, the Clock Tower's receptionist found the purple folder labeled with the golden seal of Atlas Academy, set aside for Matou Shinji.

"Here you are, then, your package as part of the Director's entourage," Octavia explained, flipping the folder open and pointing out the relevant items. "Information for the chauffeur service you have access to, two front row tickets for Tom Stoppard's _Arcadia_ at the Lyttelton Theatre, access credentials for the diplomatic lounge at the Tower, a credit card to cover any expenses you have for the duration of your stay, and information we have regarding your guest, Miss Illyasviel von Einzbern."

Apparently, the daughter of the Einzberns would arrive on the morrow.

'… _wait…Tohsaka arrives tomorrow. This could be bad.'_

…though at least Illyasviel was due to arrive at Heathrow in the evening, and by that time, he imagined Tohsaka would be asleep, given that the trip from Japan to the UK would be much longer than the short hop from Germany – a short hop via private plane.

'… _one can only hope.'_

* * *

It was a somewhat more sober Matou Shinji that found Harry Potter standing in the gift shop of the British Museum, looking at a chess set with a thousand-yard stare.

"Harry," Shinji said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, as the Boy-Who-Lived flinched at the sound of his voice.

"Wh—oh, it's you," Harry replied quietly, looking away from the chessboard at last. "Sorry, I was…"

"It's ok," Shinji answered, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "I know."

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it of his memories of Sokaris, and of the ill-fated adventure the Stone Cutters had gone on their first year, as they sought to keep the Philosopher's Stone out of Quirrell's hands.

"…do you think we'll ever see her again? Or that she'll ever forgive us?" Harry whispered. In his mind, he'd failed her.

"I'm sure she already has, because you remember her," Shinji replied, escorting his friend out of the shop and into the museum, towards the Egyptian galleries, where some of the finest exhibits were, and where he thought Harry might find a bit of peace. "Too many forget the past, even though the past is never truly behind is, even though the past shapes us even now. By acknowledging it, by remembering it, those we care about live on – in us."

"Mm."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy looked around at the group of wizards and…goblins that had gathered for the auction of the Black Collection, a once in a lifetime event – or perhaps even rarer than that, given how rarely families as powerful as the Blacks ever truly left Britain. Families died off, certainly, but that just meant property shifted from one family to another, given that most of the upper echelons of wizarding society were related in one way or another.

If Sirius Black died in Azkaban, without a will, the Malfoys would have inherited everything, as Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black) was his closest relation who had not been disowned from the family, leaving them as undisputedly the wealthiest pure-blooded family in Britain.

He had not however, with the man somehow managing to even escape Azkaban – the inescapable prison, a feat which brought to mind all sorts of stories of what Black had done, and how he had sold out the Order of the Phoenix.

Back then, Lucius Malfoy had assumed they were true, with Black having only worked with Potter and his ilk to give the Dark Lord an advantage, but as fortune had it, this turned out not to be the case, with new evidence (in the form of a still living Peter Pettigrew) being brought before the court after all these years.

Black had been set free, with Lucius pushing to have the last scion of the House of Black decorated as a hero for enduring unjust captivity in the hope of currying his favor.

But instead, Black had announced that he was planning on leaving the country, taking the Black fortune with him – after selling his estate to Matou Shinji of the Stone Cutters of all people, which raised quite a few questions as to how the boy had obtained the funds necessary to buy the property – or even learned it was on sale in the first place.

Worse, he had made this announcement – and the announcement of the auctioning of his worldly possessions – at the very last minute, when most families of any standing had already made plans for the holidays.

…Lucius Malfoy suspected that this had been done on purpose, as a way for Sirius to bite his thumb at the society that had wronged him.

For this event was something no wizard of proper breeding could afford to miss, given what the Black Collection amounted to – the single largest collection of magical lore, artifacts, and other items to go on sale _ever_ in Magical Britain.

And so people had canceled their plans and gathered in this auction hall in droves, though as usual, there were a few goblins around, with those unsightly beings acting on behalf of individuals who did not want to be identified.

' _They have a right to be concerned,'_ the man conceded. He could see Alastor Moody in the audience, no doubt paying heed of where the darkest books were going to, as well as Rita Skeeter, and of course, Gilderoy Lockhart, though only Merlin knew what _he_ was doing here.

"Good evening, Lucius," the History Professor greeted, taking a seat next to him.

"Good evening, Gilderoy," Lucius Malfoy replied smoothly, though the sight of this man annoyed him. "Interested in adding to your collection?"

"As you are to yours, I'm sure," Lockhart noted. "Pity no catalog was released in advanced, isn't it?"

"For once, we agree on something," the Chief Warlock answered. "Out of curiosity, do you know how it was your student came to acquire the Black property?"

"He bought it, of course," the adventurer rejoined. "Didn't you read the paper?"

"…good luck on the auction," was all he said in reply, with the other nodding to him.

At least in the end, he managed to acquire the bulk of the collection, though Lockhart made away with some of the personal journals and letters of the Blacks, some others bought their collection of knives or house-elf heads, and one of the goblins was quite interested in a few early notes from Nicholas Flamel, Paracelsus and other books on Alchemy, as well as a few tomes on the forbidden art of necromancy.


	26. Silly-Go-Round

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 26.** _Silly-Go-Round_

Shinji bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding furiously in his chest as he glanced about wildly, scanning for any hint of danger, any sign of the presence he had heard _whispering_ to him. But there was nothing out of the ordinary in the room in which he found himself – a room that was in no way like the austere chamber he had at Hogwarts.

' _Another unfamiliar ceiling.'_ And in an unfamiliar room, no less _. 'Why am I…?'_

But his thoughts trailed off as his gaze fell upon the medal for the Order of Merlin hanging on the wall, shining in the pale moonlight.

 _His_ Order of Merlin.

Seeing that, he relaxed a bit as he remembered. This was _his_ bedroom. A room in the house he'd bought just two days ago. He was safe here.

' _Or am I?'_ Shinji wondered, his mind turning back to the dreams that had plagued him for the last two nights as he'd lain in bed alone. Was it something about the house that was…? _'No. Of course it's not. After all, I've had these dreams before.'_ Closing his eyes, the boy inhaled slowly, focusing on the very act of breathing as he slowly tensed every muscle in his body, before relaxing as he exhaled – once, twice, three times.

There should be nothing amiss about this place, given how it had been remodeled and renovated so it was suitable for human habitation, with everything of the old Black Collection cleaned out. In fact, save for the locket he'd acquired from _Borgin and Burkes_ , the gift he'd received from Tomas, and the books from last night's auction, there should be nothing of the Black family left in this house.

This very expensive house that he'd paid a small fortune for.

' _Why did I buy it anyway?'_ he'd asked himself in the last couple of days, since he didn't need such a house himself – not when he spent his days in Britain at Hogwarts and the rest of the year elsewhere. But he knew the answer, even if it wasn't something he'd admit to himself by day, when he was the Matou Shinji respected and revered by so many in Magical Britain – even by the Boy-Who-Lived.

In the hazy half-light of the moon, however, it was easier for him to face his insecurities, to face the emotional baggage heaped on him by his past. As far as he'd come from the powerless little boy who had received his letter to Hogwarts almost three years ago, as much as he'd accomplished, as many accolades as had been showered upon him, he knew full well compared to those he measured himself against, he was as nothing.

His encounter with the Magic Gunner yesterday had forced him to face that inconvenient truth for the first time in a long while, as just the force of her ire had been enough to bring him to his knees – though at least he hadn't passed out. For him to nearly collapse so…

' _I'm glad Sokaris didn't see that…'_

She was the Director of Atlas, after all, and it was his aim of one day standing beside her as an equal that drove him towards ever greater heights, for it was she who had made him who he was today. Would he have grown as much as he had if her actions hadn't resulted in him becoming Aozaki Touko's apprentice and learning from some of the most talented and powerful individuals in all of _Mahoutokoro?_ Would he have otherwise turned out like Hermione, content to simply be the best in his class, accepting the limits of the world of Britain, instead of continuing to strive towards an ever-distant utopia?

Or would he be dead, as just another of Quirrell's victims, buried unmourned in an unmarked grave?

He didn't know. There were so many things that could have gone differently, choices building on choices that would have changed everything, leading to a self he wouldn't recognize today.

Frankly, alone in the darkness, he could admit to himself that he wasn't at all sure that he was ready to attend a white-tie gala with the movers and shakers of the Association, that in his own way, he was terrified of ruining everything with an ill-chosen word or gesture, reflecting badly on himself and his benefactor.

Especially as he would be attending it with Illyasviel von Einzbern, the daughter of the Einzbern family, a girl he'd presumed on the name of Atlas Academy to invite. Her lineage was old – far older than his – with her raw abilities likely so far above his as to make any confrontation a joke, given that the blood of a Magician – and the Master of Northern Alchemy – ran through her veins.

While he…

Shinji shook his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to look outside the window.

She'd accepted his invitation, and would be arriving this evening, no doubt expecting him to show her around London, as he'd offered. But what would she think of him once she saw him in the flesh? Could he even hope to meet the expectations he'd no doubt created in her mind by invoking the name of Atlas?

He smiled slightly, but the expression was a pained one.

Compared to the monsters of the moonlit world, Matou Shinji the person was far less impressive than he liked to believe, and worse, he _knew it._ How could he not when he'd been _replaced_ in his youth, cast aside for his adopted _sister_? The psychic scars of that revelation had never completely gone away – part of the reason why Matou Zouken was his boggart, he imagined, as there was no single being who so embodied the concept of rejection in his mind.

Being honest, _that_ was why he'd bought the house, why he spent so much on the various goods, why he'd done so much for Tohsaka Rin, the sister of the one who'd replaced him.

Long ago, she – or rather, what she represented, as the Second Owner of Fuyuki – had been everything he could have wanted, seeming more powerful, more talented than he could ever hope to be.

Things had changed in the past few years, with their relative positions changing, so that in her eyes, he no doubt seemed a worldly, accomplished member of a chivalric order, while she had remained in Fuyuki, accomplishing little of worth. He admitted he'd greatly enjoyed their encounter last Christmas, given how she – she who he used to idolize and envy in equal measure – had wanted his attention, had blushed prettily from his compliments and his presents, her actions, if not her words, serving as an _acknowledgement_ that he had become _someone_ , even by the standards of the Moonlit World.

Buying this house – a house which would probably be mostly for her use, as he'd probably find little reason to use himself until he finished his studies at Hogwarts – was more of the same.

Because he needed her.

He needed her to reassure him that he was on the proper path, for a prodigy and Average One to be thrilled and impressed and perhaps even embarrassed – so that he could shore up his view of who he was and who he believed himself to be.

Matou Shinji chuckled bitterly as he looked back upon the year at Hogwarts, recalling that Hermione acted much the same way around _him_ , as if she sought his approval in everything she did, as if only by attaching herself to someone else's needs could she feel complete.

' _What a mad world…'_

* * *

Airplanes, Tohsaka Rin had just about concluded, were some of the worst inventions known to man, as they were noisy, cramped things which cared not at all for the comfort of their passengers and took far too long to get to their destination.

Already, she had been in the air for almost 24 hours, with her body _aching_ all over from being stuffed into a small seat and thrown around by turbulence. Worse, she hadn't been able to sleep a wink the entire flight, so she was more tired than she'd ever been.

All she wanted was for the flight to be over, even if that meant going through customs, having to speak English, and hoping that her visa really was the proper one for what she needed. The whole business of having to apply for a passport, had been bad enough, to say nothing of the visa application – which she'd needed Kirei's assistance with, since it was all in English and he was her legal guardian, or buying a low-cost airline ticket.

…the fake priest had been less than…entirely helpful with the process, and she wouldn't have put it past him to have forgotten to mention a small detail or other – such as the fact that the cheap airline he'd booked for her took about twice as long to get there as most commercial carriers.

' _Ugh. Maybe I should have at least used a legitimate travel agent.'_

Given that she _had_ a source of money that wasn't dependent on Kirei, thanks to Matou's lavish gifts, perhaps she shouldn't have skimped on travel expenses, but old habits die hard – and even if they didn't, she didn't want Kirei asking questions about why she'd decided not to abide by his teachings of austerity.

She'd gotten enough flak from him over not attending Christmas services last year, though thankfully, he didn't seem to know she'd spent the holiday with Matou.

The memory of their night together – that stolen moment they'd shared – warmed her heart as little else could, as it reminded her that she had someone who cared about her, who wasn't after her land, her position as Second Owner, or what little wealth her house had.

Matou Shinji, a boy who had probably once envied her – who should have resented her for who and what she was – wanted nothing more than for her to be happy, doing all he had done for her without expecting anything in return.

…and that, more than anything else, showed her just how powerful he truly had become, given the principle most magi held to in their day to day dealings was equivalent exchange, tit for tat, favor for favor.

For someone to go move beyond that framework, to dismiss the notion of obligation or repayment as being necessary or even wanted, was something that frankly startled her – and that had helped her to meekly endure Kirei's pointed lectures about how she was being irresponsible in shirking her duties as Second Owner to chase ephemeral glory.

Because she wasn't seeking glory, really. She was seeking to become the best person she could be, the best magus she could be, the best Tohsaka Rin that Tohsaka Rin could be.

If two short years away from the backwater of Fuyuki could change Matou so, then she had to believe that it could change her – that the goal of becoming more than she was, of surpassing her father and becoming someone he could be proud of, of maybe one day winning the Holy Grail and bringing honor to the Tohsaka name was not beyond reach.

If she trained, if she took every opportunity she could, and kept on moving towards her goal, she would reach her destination, one day.

And who knew – maybe when she did, Matou would be there to greet her with a smile.

' _That's right. I shouldn't listen to Kirei. This…all of this…it isn't a mistake.'_

She smiled thinly as an announcement came over the intercom that the plane would be landing shortly, and so passengers should return their seats to their upright and locked positions, assuming they had filled out their landing cards and other such things.

Having nothing else to do during her flight, she'd completed it long ago, despite how annoying it was to fill out documents in English.

'… _paperwork.'_ An irritating, but necessary evil. And if Matou put up with it every year to come visit her, the least she could do was return the favor.

(Sadly, she did not know that Shinji utilized more magical means of transport, and so bypassed the paperwork and the aggravation of a long flight.)

Still, they were almost there.

Soon she would see Matou again. Soon she would begin her studies at the Clock Tower. Soon, everything would begin to change.

…and it couldn't come _too_ soon, she thought to herself, stifling a curse as she hit her head on the ceiling as the plane touched down.

* * *

Shinji shivered as he stepped out of his house into the cold London air, dressed in one of his finest sets of garments – a well-appointed morning coat, waistcoat, and trouser ensemble with matching bow-tie, as it was indeed morning, though the sun had not yet risen. Indeed, the night had just given way to the blue of twilight, the liminal time of mystery where everything seemed possible.

' _A time when neither moon nor sun are in the sky, and the light of the stars is wash out by the eerie blue of the heavens…'_

It was a time of day he enjoyed when he was awake for it, which was quite often, given that he liked to rise before most others did – as did his usual companion in the mornings, Luna Lovegood. He smiled crookedly as he wondered what she was up to this morning, in his absence.

No doubt, she was reading something again – probably the _Fairy Tales_ of noted author Hans Christian Andersen, whose stories expressed themes transcending age and nationality, much like the _Lord of the Rings_ or the other books Luna so enjoyed. He did hope she'd like the book he'd found for her, as he found the quote inscribed on the frontispiece to be quite fitting indeed.

' _It is only with the heart one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eyes.'_

A statement that Matou Shinji knew to be true _,_ for the trappings of wealth, power and authority meant little in the end, before the truths of who one was, what one was, and what the future would hold. Most didn't appreciate that, only looking at the appearances of things, and so were deceived.

' _Even I might have been, once upon a time…'_

His breath formed a white mist in the morning cold as he looked around, wondering what form the car he'd summoned would take. The folder he'd received from the Clock Tower had directed him to call a certain number to request transport if he needed it, and he imagined getting to Heathrow to pick up Tohsaka would certainly qualify.

Still, he blinked as a distinctive black car pulled up in front of his residence with the driver side window lowering slowly to reveal a rather…large tuxedo-clad man looking rather like what one might expect a bodyguard to appear.

"Matou Shinji?" the man rumbled. "Your transportation, sir."

"I…see," Shinji replied, not recognizing the make or model. "What kind of car is that?"

"A Rolls Royce Phantom VI, sir."

He didn't recognize the name either, though perhaps if he'd been older or a little more worldly he would have, as the name Rolls Royce was synonymous with luxury in much of the world, with the Phantom VI, like the various other models that had shared the Phantom name, being an ultra-exclusive luxury sedan usually sold to – and used to transport – royalty, heads of state, and other very important people.

So as not to seem ignorant, the boy just nodded, as the man dismounted from the car, opened the back door and gestured for Shinji to enter, which he did.

'… _I could get used to this.'_

"As you know, there is a mini-bar with various snacks and beverages in the back should you need it," the chauffeur explained, proceeding to point out the various features of the car and its passenger area, with climate control, storage and such. "Is there anything you require before we depart, sir?

"No," Shinji replied.

"Very good, sir," the man said with a bow. "And our destination is Heathrow, correct?"

"Yes, followed by the Criterion for breakfast," Shinji confirmed. Given that it was historic restaurant, he imagined Rin would like it well enough, though he chuckled as a thought crossed his mind. "Actually could we stop by a department store first? I wanted to get an espresso machine."

"I am afraid Harrod's is not open yet, sir," the chauffeur replied apologetically. "If you would like, while you and your companion have breakfast at The Criterion, one of my associates could retrieve one for you. Top end model, I imagine?"

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you," Shinji said quietly. It wouldn't do to go with anything less than the best, after all. "Then Heathrow it is."

"As you say, sir," the man answered with a slight bow, shutting the rear passenger door and boarding the car himself.

* * *

After about an hour pushing a mercilessly heavy luggage cart around, showing immigration officers her paperwork, explaining her desire to study with an institute affiliated with the British Museum, all the while hoping that no overzealous customs inspector would take it upon himself to inspect _Zelretch's Treasure Chest,_ Tohsaka Rin's patience with bureaucracy had just about come to an end.

Fortunately, before she could lose her temper and do something truly irreversible, the officials seemed to decide that a 13 year old Japanese girl wasn't exactly a prime suspect for smuggling contraband into the country, and that Kirei hadn't made a _mistake_ on her paperwork, so they'd let her through, much to her relief.

That relief, however, had been short lived, as she'd been quickly disoriented by the torrent of English all around her.

There were people crowding around her, hundreds brushing past her on their way towards the terminal exit, barely noticing the fact that she existed. All of them spoke English in the rapid clip of a native speaker. The voice booming from the intercom above did so in English. And on the signs, everything was written, once again, in English.

For a girl from a small town who was used to speaking - and hearing - Japanese, this was rather overwhelming.

' _How does Matou cope with this?'_ she wondered, a light flush coming to her cheeks at the thought of the gallant boy.

She shook her head to clear it of the image of his smile as she trudged onwards, tiredly pushing the cart forward through the doorway to the waiting area of the terminal.

"Ah, Tohsaka!" a voice called out – _Matou's_ voice – in welcome Japanese, and a smile stole across her lips at the sight of the boy. A boy clad in what appeared to be formal wear, trailed by a man who she could only describe as a giant - a blond, tuxedo-clad sunglasses-wearing giant standing over two meters tall - both of which were coming her way.

At a nod from Matou, the large man took charge of her luggage, seemingly without any effort at all.

And Matou himself greeted her with a courtly bow, before stepping forward, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips as he kissed it in the way of a proper gentleman.

"It's good to see you, Tohsaka," he said warmly, holding onto her hand for just a brief moment longer than was strictly necessary. It _was_ nice to see a familiar face, after all, especially one which probably looked the way his might have when he first arrived at Platform 9¾ all those years ago.

"And you, Matou," the girl replied, feeling a tad underdressed as she looked down at what she had worn on the plane – her school uniform and her long red coat. "You came."

"Of course I did," Shinji answered, somewhat bemused that she thought he wouldn't come. "After all, it would be impolite if I didn't, since you've come all this way. Studying at the Tower?"

"Hopefully," Rin said quietly, though now that she was no longer moving forward, she could feel the weight of exhaustion begin to set in. "Matou, can we…?"

"Certainly." Shinji offered her his arm for support, which the girl took gratefully, leaning against him in her tiredness. "Jeeves, if you would."

"Of course, sir," the bodyguard replied deferentially, as the man led the way back to the parked limousine.

Soon enough they arrived at the limo, with Rin's eyes widening as she saw the obviously expensive car waiting for them. She wondered why Matou had gone through all this trouble for her – or if _he_ was just considered so important that this was how he normally went around London.

"Did you…do all this for me?" she whispered, wanting to know which it was.

"You deserve no less, Tohsaka," Shinji answered gently, stepping back as she let go of his arm. Without missing a beat, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, bringing a tinge of pink to her cheeks, before opening the door for her and gesturing for her to get in. "After you, Second Owner."

And get in she did, marveling at the luxuriousness of the car, and how comfortable the seats were compared to that Kirei-damned airplane she'd been stuck in. As he got in behind her, with the driver putting her things in the trunk, she wondered if all this were real, or if this was just a dream she was having on the plane, with the rough landing and the ordeal of immigration and customs still to come.

"I'm not…dreaming, right?" she asked haltingly.

"No. You're here. With me," Shinji replied, as Tohsaka Rin, Second Owner of Fuyuki sighed in relief, the stress beginning to drain away. And as the car began to move, so did her consciousness.

"Matou, is it alright if I…?"

"Go ahead, Tohsaka. Rest."

And rest she did, drifting off to sleep, slumped against him, her head on his shoulder, utterly defenseless.

* * *

"…is this…the dormitory _?"_ Rin asked as Matou helped her out of the car, looking up at the massive marble edifice before her, its many stories decorated with niches containing statues, and delicately carved friezes, held up by Ionic half-columns.

…it looked more like a temple, frankly, but she'd heard the Tower could be ostentatious at times.

Shinji chuckled, a sound of rich amusement that made her cheeks color from embarrassment.

"Actually, it's the Criterion. The restaurant where we're having breakfast," he corrected, as Rin just blinked, blinked again, and rubbed her eyes. "It's one of the most famous in London."

Famous for several reasons: the quality of its food, the sheer opulence of its architecture, and its literary significance, as this was the very place where Watson had first heard about his new roommate, Sherlock Holmes in the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

After they were seated in a booth, Shinji ordered full English breakfasts for the both of them, as Rin just looked around, unused to such extravagance.

"It's all a bit much, isn't it?" the boy reflected kindly, looking around with a wry smile. He'd gotten used to these sorts of surroundings, since he lived in a castle most of the year, but Tohsaka…hadn't.

"I-it's not like I've never seen something like this before," Rin blustered, averting her eyes from her companion. "I just – I'm not used to everyone speaking in English," she explained, shaking her head. It was a comfort to have someone from her homeland here, speaking her native tongue, helping her on her first day here. She didn't know what she'd do otherwise. "You told me how different London was, but I didn't really believe you."

"It _is_ more than a bit strange," Shinji replied – first in Japanese, then in English. "But you get used to it eventually. I studied abroad during the Fourth, so this isn't the first time."

"Oh?" Rin inquired, raising a slim eyebrow. She knew he'd left town during the event, as she had, but not where he'd gone.

"Boarding school," he intoned, but said no more. It had not been a good time for him, having to be around so many _people_ when he was sleeping bothered him, given how vulnerable he was then. About the only person he'd gotten used to sleeping with was Luna, really, and that was because of the camping trip they'd gone on, when they'd grown very close to the point where he trusted her with his life.

"…that bad?"

"That bad," Shinji confirmed, shaking his head. "Things are better now though, since where I am, I have a room to myself."

"Is that because you're a knight?" Rin asked, the words "chivalric order" being a little complex to even try pronouncing in her tired state. "A reward for your services?"

Services that she was sure included slaying a wyvern or some such – something almost unheard of in this modern day and age.

"Among other things, yes," Shinji replied, giving the magus a sly smile. "I suppose it helps that I'm also the apprentice of Aozaki Touko."

Rin blinked.

' _What.'_

Surely she had heard that wrong.

"No, you hearing was perfectly fine," Shinji commented, with Rin realizing with horror that she'd spoken her thought out loud.

'… _just how long have I been doing that…?'_

"A while," Shinji responded easily, with Rin frowning at how she'd just let her guard down around Matou. Around anyone else from the Tower, that would probably be lethal – or at least highly disadvantageous. "Don't worry about it – it can happen to anyone." He peered at the girl with some concern. "How long was your flight, anyway?"

"Urk…25 hours," Rin grumbled, as the Matou scion just _stared._ "…don't ask. It's Kirei's fault."

"…I believe it." And he did, too. After all, who knew what the Church was up to? His thoughts turned to the golden-haired, red-eyed youth he'd met in Fuyuki last year, who had known his uncle and the events of the Fourth War. A youth who had called himself an archer.

Perhaps not coincidentally, Archer – one of the seven classes of Servants in the Holy Grail War.

'… _but how could a Servant remain after the War without the support of the Grail?'_ he wondered. The sheer impossibility of it was why he hadn't made the connection immediately, but as time went on, he'd begun to wonder. And as it so happened, he would be spending a considerable amount of time with the daughter of the Einzbern this winter holiday,and it was her family who had made the grail in the first place. Perhaps if he played his cards right, he'd be able to ask. Perhaps she'd even have an answer.

That would take some doing, however.

"So, Aozaki Touko," Rin prompted, trying to get Shinji to confirm what he'd said earlier. "Isn't she…?"

Despite living in Fuyuki, even she had heard of the genius magus and puppet-maker – as well as the Aozaki family in general, who had once governed the greatest spiritual land in Japan, and whose ranks included the master of the Fifth Magic.

"Yes. She is my Master."

The rest of breakfast was conducted in silence, with a ravenous Tohsaka eating as fast as she dared, trying to fill her grumbling stomach with as much in the way of food as possible, even if the assortment of bacon, poached eggs, fried tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast with sausages was foreign to her.

' _What I wouldn't give for good helping of rice, pickles, and miso soup…'_

Before she knew it, the plate before her was empty, with the Second Owner of Fuyuki feeling a little more like a proper human being again, sighing with contentment as Shinji settled the bill and helped her to her feet.

"Let's go home," he said warmly.

"Yes," Rin replied, holding on to his hand just a bit tighter than she absolutely had to.

* * *

Tohsaka Rin found herself staring up at the face of the manor in front of which the limousine had stopped. This was it then, the dormitory in which Matou had found a spot for her.

' _Maybe there won't be too many other people…'_

Or least, maybe the walls were sturdy enough that she wouldn't have to deal with them if she didn't want to. It was strange to think that just a day or so ago, she'd had a house like this – if a little smaller – all to herself, and now…

"What do you think?" Shinji asked quietly, noting the way Tohsaka was looking at the house, as if she wasn't sure she was at all pleased.

"…how many other people live here?" the girl spoke, an odd light in her eye as she turned to…well, what she supposed was the closest thing she had to a childhood friend.

"Hm? No one right now." Shinji was a little confused. Did Tohsaka _want_ to live with other people? Had he blundered by getting this house just for her? "Except me, sometimes."

"Huh?"

Tohsaka's face was a work of art, a study in blank incomprehension as she regarded Matou, not understanding what he meant.

"The house belongs to me," Shinji explained, shaking his head. "When I heard you were coming to London, I took the liberty of getting us a house, since I thought you would like a nice place to live. I know I don't like living in dorms myself, after all." He hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully, as he saw Tohsaka's expression shift towards incredulity. "If you would prefer a dormitory, I could…"

"No." Rin's answer was immediate, with the girl looking down, seeming almost…shy. "No, you don't have to. I'd like to live here. In your house."

Inside, Tohsaka cursed herself for a fool. Matou was just being kind again, looking out for her best interests. He'd already admitted that he wasn't after her hand in marriage or anything like that, so why did she almost wish that weren't the case?

"Matou, I—"

Before she could say more though, she was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, as the bodyguard Jeeves moved to let her out.

"After you, Tohsaka," Shinji said gallantly, with the boy steadying her from behind as the girl got to her feet, looking distantly at the manor house.

Matou…had bought a house? Just because she was coming to London? She didn't…what could she even say to this?

Stepping inside didn't do anything to help her confusion abate at all. If anything, it only got worse, as she saw how luxury seemed to drip from the very walls, the rich wood paneling, sumptuous velvet furniture, gilded metal ceilings, and more.

He'd provided her with a lab, storage space, meeting rooms, and more – all of which were elegantly appointed enough, but what really brought home the message of obscenely rich he was were the bathrooms.

Never mind the sensual décor of the bedrooms and sitting area, which made her feel as if she could collapse into them, fall asleep and not wake up for days - a welcome prospect after the flight.

Even bathrooms here had grand proportions, with hers featuring an extra-large fireplace and carved decorative mantel sitting in front of a two-person tub, with an expanse of vanity area and multiple loungers…and a cabinet well stocked with wines, so one could lounge in a bubble bath, glass of wine in hand under the glow of a warm fire, with the sound of splashing accompanied by the crackling of burning wood.

"Hey. What is this," she said, trying to see if there was anything wrong with the house at all, anything that was in any way imperfect. And then she realized… "…there's no bounded field."

Amidst the security of the place, the sheer decadence of her surroundings and her exhaustion, she'd almost missed it – that this house lacked any defenses beyond the basic hypnosis that convinced most normal people it wasn't there.

Such a thing was strange indeed, as it made her feel almost _naked_.

Shinji, however, had a reply ready at hand.

"I'll get one set up soon," he answered softly. "I just didn't want you feel like an intruder on your first day in your new home."

Get one set up? But since no magus would leave a property unguarded for long, this meant…

"You just bought this house, didn't you?" Rin asked meekly.

"…just a couple days ago, yes. On the winter solstice," Shinji replied, realizing belatedly that by the standards of Arithmancy, it was a rather auspicious day for new beginnings. _'The longest night of the year…'_

Shortly thereafter, Tohsaka felt her fatigue catch up to her at last, and she let Shinji guide her to the bedroom, where – without bothering to change – she just shrugged off her coat and flopped down on the comfortable bed.

Shinji turned to go, but was stopped by Rin calling after him.

"Um…Matou," she said quietly.

"Yes, Tohsaka?"

"Would you stay with me…until I fall asleep?" the girl asked, looking almost shy. "Without a bounded field, I don't feel exactly safe here. But if you're here with me, I know things will be ok."

He was her one point of familiarity in this foreign land, where everything she knew was wrong, after all, and needed to be learned again. He'd done so much for her, and she was surprised to find that she trusted him.

Completely.

"Alright," Shinji answered, settling himself on the chair beside the bed. "Is there anything you would like me to do?"

The girl didn't say anything, just stretching her hand out towards him – a hand he clasped, their fingers intertwining. They stayed there for some time, the only sound in that room being the mingled sounds of their breathing, which slowly, gradually grew to match one another as Tohsaka Rin finally drifted off to sleep.

Shinji gently let go of her hand and tucked her arm back on to the bed, as he found a loose blanket and covered her up with it.

It was almost odd seeing her here, in his house, with her seeming so very vulnerable. And yet the sight of her being so impressed, so overcome with surprise, so trusting of him had restored his spirits, meaning that he now thought he could face the rest of the day – especially his outing with the daughter of the Einzbern to come this evening.

He chuckled weakly as he made his way to the penthouse suite for a long soak, as he needed to refresh himself before heading out again. Soon he would meet the mysterious Illyasviel, and if he were not at his best, her displeasure might bode ill for his bodily integrity. After all, the Einzbern were not…a forgiving sort, as even Matou Zouken had pointed out, and anyone who scared his grandfather was probably someone to be worried about.

 _'I suppose I could buy her a gift, but what does one get for someone who has everything?'_

It was a question he found himself asking depressingly often, given how the difficulty of buying gifts for people like the Director of Atlas and Aozaki Touko, and here he was about to tackle a similar task...with only a handful of hours in which to do it.


	27. Young Knight and Priestess

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 27.** _Young Knight and Priestess_

Wandering the shelves of _Future Zone_ alongside Jeeves _,_ one of the few exclusive UK game retailers of the time, staring at the dizzying array of video games, consoles, and other game paraphernalia, Matou Shinji felt like he'd been thrown into some alternate universe – one where his usual formality and ostentation was more than a little out of place.

"…Jeeves, are you _sure_ this is the place?" he asked, glancing about at everything with a hint of intimidation. Game posters were everywhere, as were boxes upon boxes of cartridges, things that called themselves memory cards and peripherals, consoles like the Sega Mega Drive and Atari Lynx, and what looked like an arcade cabinet in the corner of the room.

…and with the rather casual attire of the other shoppers, with their plaid flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and boots, this didn't seem like a place a Lord would visit at all, much less frequent. All the more so when they were outright staring at him – or perhaps they were staring at the tuxedo-clad, sunglasses wearing chauffeur, who admittedly seemed a bit…larger than life.

"Positive, sir," the man rumbled, his head inclining fractionally. "The Head of Mineralogy himself once extoled the virtues of this place as a mecca of entertainment from the east, when he needed an escape from the pressures of the Museum." Then the bodyguard paused, seeming somewhat less certain. "However, beyond that I cannot be of further help, as I have never been asked to accompany him inside."

Shinji sighed internally, scanning the shelves for a sign of something familiar, as he didn't recognize most of what was here. With the way everything had been rebranded and rendered in English, almost everything was unfamiliar.

' _Aha.'_

Almost everything – except for the name _Nintendo._

"We'll go over there," the Matou scion said with more confidence than he felt, moving over to the area set aside for things from that company – a console called a Super Nintendo Entertainment System (which he thought looked a little like the Famicom), boxes of things called Game Boys, and games adorned with the familiar – if somewhat pixelated – figure of a pudgy Italian plumber, with the television above blaring out a song he _recognized._

After all, in his youth, he'd had a _Game & Watch _himself _,_ a precursor to the Game Boy, which aside from functioning as a clock, had featured a single game for play on its LCD screen. In his case, that game had been _Super Mario Brothers,_ a side-scrolling port of the hit designed for the console that had come to be known in the West as the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES), but which in Japan had been known simply as the Family Computer, or Famicom for short.

"Any suggestions?" he asked Jeeves, but the chauffeur turned bodyguard remained impassive, leaving Shinji somewhat annoyed.

When he'd left the house again, Matou Shinji had set out to do a bit of shopping, hoping to acquire something that would win him a bit of favor with the Einzbern girl – a person who would probably be unmoved by a show of wealth or by magical trinkets from Diagon Alley, no matter how elaborate. He'd briefly considered giving her the locket he'd gotten from Tomas, but he figured she had jewelry enough, so he'd turned to the chauffeur for suggestions.

"There is one place that may have what you are looking for," Jeeves had replied. "One which even a Lord who hates almost everything about the East favors."

Shinji, clad in his finest garments – a black tailcoat worn over a white starched shirt, white Marcella waistcoat, and the eponymous white bow tie of _white tie_ attire, with high waisted black trousers and patent leather shoes completing the ensemble – had agreed, feeling reassured about his sartorial selection, given that no doubt such was expected from a place frequented by nobility.

…except that when they'd arrived at _Future Zone_ , they'd walked inside to find that this was not a hidden place of haute couture or politics at all, but a video game store. One of 77 in the United Kingdom after the purchase of Virgin Games by the Rhino Group.

(In later years, they would become known as EB Games after being acquired by Electronic Boutique, and later simply as Game – the name by which some might know them as late as 2015).

Matou Shinji had never felt more nervous than when he walked through the door of that store, and all conversation around him just _stopped_ , with people looking up from their shopping – or their playing with a sudden hush.

All at once, he had felt like an outsider, someone who simply did not belong there, but despite the slings and arrows of those many barbed glances, he pressed on, as he knew finding a good present for Illyasviel von Einzbern might very well save his life.

But as he found himself in front of the Nintendo display, the boy was suddenly unsure. Would a magus _really_ appreciate something like this? Granted, it was _different,_ but he wasn't at all certain that it was the kind of different a daughter of a traditional house might appreciate.

Still, did he even have time to go elsewhere?

Shinji sighed, shaking his head as he began considering his options, going through the constraints and limitations in a typical magical household, based on what he knew of Magical Britain and the Einzbern.

' _No electricity.'_

That was probably the biggest hurdle to overcome, so anything which needed to be plugged in was out.

Almost as much of an issue, however, was the question of appearances and co-requisite equipment. Most of these consoles needed a television to display their games, and an arcade cabinet just seemed a bit…garish.

All of which meant that if he was going to go with a Nintendo product, since they were the only company he was really familiar with, then he'd have to go with this Game Boy device – something like a white plastic brick with a LCD screen, a D-pad, and a number of other buttons.

He had just reached out to take one of the boxes off the shelf when a hesitant voice spoke from behind him.

"Excuse me." Shinji turned to see another fellow who looked somewhat out of place, a man in perhaps his late twenties or early thirties with long loose black hair and a rather sour expression on his face, clad in a dark grey ensemble of vest and fine trousers, covered by a red coat with golden ornamentation on its shoulders. "Are you by chance…Japanese?"

"And if I am?" the boy asked warily, noting in the background that the people in the shop seemed to have turned away, as if this was someone they were used to seeing.

"Then maybe you might…" the man said hesitantly, his voice trailing off as he tried to figure out the best way to word his query. "You know, you should be familiar with that town. That place right between Ueno and Asakusa…"

Shinji was surprised, not having expected to hear the names of places in Tokyo from someone who was obviously not Japanese at all. Though given that this was a game store and most reputable games at the time came from Japan, perhaps he should not have been.

"You mean Akihabara?"

Given that he had spent his life in Japan, it would have been hard not to know of the place – the district in Tokyo that had become known as a premier destination for video games, anime, manga, and other electronic goods, perhaps as an evolution from its post-war function as Akihabara Electric Town, a place where one could buy both household appliances and various black market goods, given the weak government at the time.

"Aha, so you do know of it," the man noted, his sour expression easing up slightly. "I should have expected as much, given that you're in this place. Though I had thought perhaps you had some help from Jeeves."

"Passing little, sir," the bodyguard replied deferentially, with Shinji narrowing his eyes as he wondered what would prompt that kind of reaction.

'… _is this the Lord_ _Jeeves_ _spoke of?'_

"Mm, splendid," the supposed lord spoke, rubbing his hands in what seemed like excitement. "Given that we seem to share the same interests…might you have any thoughts about what is to come in the next few years?"

"Only that Nintendo will be interesting to watch," Shinji replied, eyeing the display around him. "I'm not sure if many of these other companies will last too long."

"Oh?" the man asked. "Even though Nintendo's products aren't as advanced as those of its competitors?"

The Sega Game Gear, for instance, had a full-color, backlit screen, and delivered console-grade gaming on the move, far more advanced for its time than the Game Boy that it had been created to face. And the Super Nintendo console still used cartridges at a time when its competitors were already moving to CD-ROMs.

At a casual glance, Shinji could see one major issue with some of the competing products – the price, which often was double that of Nintendo's systems. And with each additional game a rather large investment of money for the average customer…

"I'm not sure it's a matter of which one is more advanced," Shinji said slowly. "You don't get something more powerful without a tradeoff, after all."

"Heh, applying the theory of equivalent exchange to games?" the man questioned. "I suppose that is a fair point. Due to its inferior specs, the Game Boy's battery life is almost ten times that of the Game Gear, and the device is half the price."

"Aren't there more games for it too?" the boy inquired, looking over at the shelves. "I don't think people buy these things just for their hardware, since the point is to play games on them, right?"

"A connoisseur of user experience, I see," the other noted coolly, raising an eyebrow. "Then let me ask you this – what do you think about Nintendo and Sony working together to make a new console: this 'Play Station' I've heard about."

The prototype console, introduced at the 1991 Consumer Electronics Show, was a new system that would run games on both SNES cartridges as well as a new format called SNES-CD – a format to be developed by Sony to help Nintendo compete against the other CD-based consoles and CD-add ons for other consoles of the day.

Shinji frowned at this, as he only knew of Sony from their televisions, as well as their Walkman and Discman lines of products, portable music players that used cassette tapes and CDs, respectively.

"I'm not sure it will end up working," the boy replied, trying to be careful about what he said so he didn't come off as completely uninformed. "Nintendo and Sony are a bit too different."

One was strongly focused on games, and the other…well, it was a consumer electronics company, making cameras and the like.

"Oh?" the man was intrigued, given that he had yet to hear the opinion of a Japanese native on the matter.

"I don't see Nintendo releasing something new when what they have is doing so well," Shinji reasoned, glancing up at the demo TV, whose speakers were still blaring out the iconic theme of _Super Mario Brothers_. He recognized it, after all, when he didn't that of anything else. "Maybe Sony will end up making a Play Station, but if they do, it probably won't run Nintendo games."

"Heh…," the man grunted, stroking his chin as he looked around. "You could be right, though I'm not at all sure the console market can take many more competitors. The Sega and Nintendo competition is fierce as it is, with everything else scrabbling for a share. Neo Geo is too expensive for most, and the Atari Lynx…it just doesn't have enough games."

"Maybe Sony will get rid of one of others then," Matou Shinji suggested, with the man nodding slowly.

"Maybe. It would be interesting to see," the unknown lord conceded. "Do you have any thoughts on what companies might be worth watching, gamewise? Aside from Nintendo, that is."

"Hm," Shinji mused, thinking back to the titles he'd scanned over, with _Mario & Wario_, developed by a small company headed by Satoshi Tajiri, catching his eye, given that it featured Mario with a bucket over his head. "Game Freak."

"Game Freak?" the man questioned, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "I have heard interesting things about their upcoming title _Pulseman,_ but that's for the Mega Drive. _Yoshi,_ though, was basically _Tetris_ but less fun. But who knows. Perhaps you're right. I have seen stranger things in my time."

And more deadly things, like the Fuyuki Fire – which he still wondered if he would have been able to stop if Iskander had not fallen to Gilgamesh in the Fourth War.

"I think we all have," Shinji replied, prompting the unknown lord to smile slightly. "So what brings you to this store?"

"I'm here to pick up a copy of _The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening_ ," the man noted. "The UK release anyway, as I already bought the Japanese version."

"…you did?" Shinji asked, taken aback by this. "Isn't that…expensive?"

The shipping costs alone…

"Of course it is," the man replied. "But how else can I play all the titles that aren't localized – or that won't be localized for almost half a year? Even North America gets titles before we do. If there's anything at all I envy the Japanese for, it's their games." He eyed Shinji critically, taking in the boy's excessively formal garb. "And you?"

"I wanted to buy a…friend a Game Boy," Shinji replied after a moment. He couldn't offer her wealth, or comfort, or many other things – but maybe, just maybe, he could offer her the gift of another world. "And some games."

"Hm. A daughter of a noble family, perhaps?" the man inquired, his eyes flicked over to Jeeves before coming back to Shinji. "Very well then, Matou Shinji. Choose what you want, and I'll pay for it."

Shinji blinked, wondering how the other knew his name – how the other had guessed who he was. But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he picked out a Game Boy Bundle (one of those that included _Tetris,_ Earbuds, and a Game Link cable), along with a few titles such as _The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening, Super Mario Land_ and _Mystic Quest_ (which those in North America might know as _Final Fantasy Adventures)_ , all of which the man took to the counter and paid for with his own purchase.

As they were walking out of the store though, Shinji's curiosity got the better of him as he turned to the man beside him.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," he said quietly. "You clearly know who I am, but I don't have any idea who you are."

The other man chuckled dryly as he handed Shinji a bag with his purchases.

"Jeeves does," the unknown lord replied. "He's driven me here often enough, haven't you?"

"Indeed, Lord El Melloi."

"…the second, Jeeves," the now identified man spoke. "El Melloi II. It is unbearably grating to be confused with the first."

"My apologies, sir," the chauffeur noted with a bow.

"No trouble. Matou, thank you for the chat earlier. Give my regards to the daughter of the Einzbern family."

And with that, the man disappeared into the crowd, with Shinji wondering why on earth a Lord of the Tower knew his name.

' _Probably because of Sion…'_

"Onto Heathrow then, sir?" Jeeves asked of the boy, bringing him back to the present.

"Indeed," Shinji confirmed. "The private jet terminal, please."

"Understood."

* * *

For Illyasviel von Einzbern, this trip to London was something of an adventure, given that it was the first time she'd been outside the Einzbern castle, a place where it always snowed, a place where it was always cold outside. There she'd been born, there she'd grown up with her parents, until Kiritsugu and her mother had left for the Fourth War – and there she'd been abandoned, after Kiritsugu had betrayed the Einzbern, destroying the Grail and leaving her behind, raising some Japanese boy in her place.

So her grandfather told her anyway, just as he had filled her head with all sorts of things about the treachery of the Tohsaka and the Makiri, the ungrateful ones who had betrayed them again and again in the quest for the Grail.

Which is why she was so surprised that grandfather was sending her to London to meet with a scion of the Makiri who had presumably had slain Kiritsugu's adopted son, stealing the sheath of Avalon in the process.

She didn't know what awaited her there, in the grand city that was the headquarters of the Association, since until a few hours ago, the Einzbern lands had been her entire world, with everything she knew beginning with the castle and ending with the rich forests.

And now she was in a luxurious private jet, sitting in a plush, comfortable lounge as she looked out the window at the clouds and the sea down below. The rich walnut panels of the interior, the double bed, gold accents, marble bathroom – none of this interested her as much as the world outside.

This would be the only chance she had to see it before the war, assuming she survived whatever plot the Makiri had planned. For that was the inescapable future before her – she, Illyasviel von Einzbern, had been born to become the Holy Grail, like her mother before her, and when the war came, she would simply cease to be.

She remembered what things had been like before the Fourth, how Kiritsugu had carried her on his shoulders, how she had been praised for her long white hair.

How she hadn't been so very lonely…

But things were different now. She'd learned about the cruelty of the world and how happiness could vanish in an instant. She'd learned what it was like to be abandoned, to be thrown away – replaced with someone more normal, even though it wasn't her fault that she looked much younger than her years – like she was 10 instead of 14.

She'd learned that in the end, only her fate as a Master awaited her, and revenge was one of the few things she had to look forward to.

Until now.

* * *

As he waited in the VIP lounge of Heathrow Airport's private terminal with a bouquet of white roses in one hand, and his purchases from _Future Zone_ in the other, Matou Shinji was finding it hard to control his nerves as the time of Illyasviel von Einzbern's arrival grew nearer and nearer. He would have preferred to meet her as she stepped off her plane, if he could, but with the minor inconvenience of things like immigration formalities, waiting was all he could do.

And worse, he was waiting alone, having asked Jeeves to stay by the car.

After all, it simply wouldn't do if the daughter of the Einzbern family were to feel like he was trying to intimidate or pressure her. Tohsaka's case had been different – she'd needed support and reassurance; he was pretty sure Illyasviel needed neither.

And so he waited, and waited, and waited, until at last the door to the lounge opened, with a vision in purple silhouetted by the fading afternoon light taking his breath away.

 _Illyasviel._

She was smaller – younger-looking – than he expected, but no less radiant for it, her features alive with excitement and energy, her crimson eyes taking in everything around her as if it was _new_ and special, with a doll-like face framed by lustrous white hair that almost glowed.

"Good day, Makiri," she spoke, her voice clear and sweet as honeyed water, as Shinji's eyes drank in her form – what he could see of it, as she was wearing a purple coat and beret, along with a long, white scarf. She lifted the hem of her skirt-coat and curtsied with an innocent smile. "My name is Ilyasviel von Einzbern."

"Good day, Einzbern. I am Matou Shinji, at your service," the boy stated as he offered her a formal bow. "These are for you," he added, handing her the bouquet, as the girl blinked, taking the flowers with one hand.

"Mato, not Makiri?" she repeated, or rather, tried, placing a finger on her lips in consternation. "That's strange."

"Heh," Shinji remarked. "I am of the Makiri, but the family's current name is Matou."

The girl's eyes narrowed, as if accusing him of trying to confuse her.

"Well, it's odd, I know," Shinji conceded, trying to defuse things before they erupted unpleasantly. He smiled at the girl. "Just call me Shinji, then."

' _The first kanji meaning discretion, and the second meaning two – for second son. Was I doomed from the start by my name?'_

"Shinji," Illyasviel repeated thoughtfully. "Oh, so it's an easier name than grandfather said it would be." She eyed him critically, looking the Makiri up and down, noting his clothing, his posture and everything else she could see about him. "You don't look much like a barbarian who slashes at others while barefoot either."

"Not during the day anyway, so you're quite safe. From me at least," the boy replied with a crooked smile as he wondered what the head of the Einzbern family had been telling the girl. He knew that the Association tended to look down on Asians, but…

The girl laughed then, a delicate sound like the pealing of bells. She hadn't expected her foe to be so…amusing. Not to her.

"Then you can call me Ilya, since my name is long," she said in turn.

"Ilya, eh?" Shinji repeated, nodding. "A pleasure to meet you." He bowed once again. "I confess, I had not expected the daughter of the Einzbern to be so lovely, with hair like fresh-fallen snow."

For a moment, the girl's expression seemed fragile, almost far away, before she shook her head.

"Kiritsugu used to say that," she said distantly. "But I'm not lovely. My hair is the only girlish thing about me."

' _If I'd really been lovely, maybe dad wouldn't have abandoned me…'_

"With respect, I beg to differ," Shinji rejoined, giving the girl a winning smile. "And I'm very glad you accepted my invitation. I wasn't at all sure you'd even read my letter."

But the daughter of the Einzberns just blinked.

"Letter?" she asked, her face betraying no sign of recognition.

"Yes, my letter inviting you to the Christmas Gala of the British Museum," the boy replied, his smile fading as the girl didn't seem to know what he was talking about. "You didn't see it?"

"Mm. Grandfather just told me that I was to come to London to meet with you," Illyasviel answered, narrowing her eyes. "I don't know anything about a gala."

Shinji took a deep breath at this, as it meant that his letter had obviously been intercepted, which meant that she didn't know he'd presumed on the name of Atlas – but that her family no doubt did.

"…I assume there is a formal dress in your luggage though?" Shinji asked, to which the girl nodded, as the Einzbern tended to formal styles anyway, and in this case, her grandfather had made something _special_ to see how Makiri would react. "Well, that's good, at least."

"But that's Christmas," Illyasviel pointed out. "There are still a few days until then, so what are your intentions, Makiri?"

"Well, in my letter I promised to show you the sights of London," the boy answered warmly. "And even if you didn't get my missive, I will honor what I said. If there's anything you'd like to see or so, just let me know. As long as it's possible for me to do, we'll do it."

"Anything?" The Einzbern girl's voice was quiet as she looked at the boy with wary eyes. For someone – especially someone from a family of magi – to say such a thing to a traditional enemy was startling.

"Anything," Shinji confirmed.

Illyasviel was silent for a time as she looked away, clenching her fists.

What would she ask, Shinji wondered? It was impossible to know, really, given that he didn't have a clue what went through her mind. Would it beggar him? Would it cost him his pride? Would it…?

"Then I want…" the girl said hesitantly, almost trembling as she wondered if Makiri – if Shinji – would do what she asked – or if he would say no, because it wasn't something impressive, something that _he_ wanted. "…take me shopping?"

Shinji blinked.

"Are you sure that's all you want?" he asked, his voice quiet in the afternoon. "You don't have to hold back. Anything at all is—"

"I-I'm not holding back. You liar! You said you'd do anything!" Illyasviel responded, flustered, her expression pained. "I should have known better than to trust a Ma—"

"Ilya, it would be my honor to take you shopping," Shinji interjected, wanting to stop her from breaking into a tirade – or worse, to resorting to violence. "I _did_ say anything, after all. I just thought you would want something else. Something that wasn't so trivial."

"…but it's not trivial," the girl said, her voice so soft as to be a whisper. "I've always wanted to do something like this. So that's what I want from you right now, Maka—Shinji."

Something like this was an everyday matter for Matou Shinji, but he realized with a start that perhaps it wasn't like that for this girl – that in powerful family of magi, her path was probably tightly constrained by the expectations of those around her. She hadn't even chosen to come here – to meet her age-old foe, she'd been told to by her _grandfather._

If this was her wish – then he would grant it, as a knight to the holy maiden of winter.

"Alright then," Shinji replied, bowing deeply to the girl as he offered her his hand. "Let's go shopping then. London is a good place for that."

"…ok," the girl said, as she took his hand.

* * *

"I want to see a play!" the Einzbern girl declared to her companion as they wandered hand in hand through Piccadilly Circus and the shopping areas around it – with Jeeves having been kind enough to take their purchases and store them in the limo.

It was dusk, with the blue hour having come once more, painting the sky a rich cerulean hue, as the light of the moon shone down from overhead.

Already, they'd had a full day, visiting any number of shops – though the two highlights of her day were Harrods, the upmarket department store in Knightsbridge, London, and the London Pavilion.

Shinji had been surprised with how Ilya had marveled at the everyday sights of London – at the range of products in the many different shops, at the vibrant enthusiasm with which she'd tried out any number of outfits, how she'd looked excitedly at the electronics and sporting gear, how she'd asked all sorts of things about how home appliances worked.

And of course, how she'd happily stuffed her cheeks with something as simple as a doughnut or three.

An apple cider doughnut with blueberry ginger jam.

A Bavarian custard filled doughnut topped with creamy chocolate icing.

A mincemeat doughnut – a UK exclusive – something like a cross between a mince pie and a doughnut.

Biting into those – sharing those with Ilya – had been like a dream, with light fluffy dough meeting the depth of rum soaked fruit and a hint of spice. The lightness of the dough's texture paired beautifully with the crunch of the cinnamon sugar on the outside, and it was just…wonderful.

As delicious as Shinji found these sweet treats though, for Ilya the experience seemed to be something far more profound, as if these simple things were more than she'd ever hoped for in her life. For him, who found these things rather ordinary, it was a shock to see how happy they made her – how much excitement she put into everything here.

'… _as if she's trying desperately to take everything in before her dream comes to an end. Because the memories will be all that's left when it's all over…'_

He'd looked like that when he went to _Mahoutokoro_ for the first time, staring in wonder at everything around him, trying to burn it all into his mind, in case it was all a fever dream and he woke up to find himself a powerless boy once again.

By the time he came to Hogwarts, he didn't have that sense of desperation anymore – not in the same way. To see that expression he knew so well on the face of another…it was an odd thing. He'd been prepared for tension, for a delicate diplomatic dance, with the two of them working out their differences over tea or some formal situation, with barbed words hidden by those that were honeyed, but not for this _._

Not to sympathize with Ilya, nor to find his time with her enjoyable, with him almost forgetting the reason he had invited her to London in the first place.

The way she laughed at the smallest things. The way a simple doughnut brought such an exquisite expression to her face. It was almost mesmerizing.

With the exception of perhaps Luna Lovegood, Ilya was more sincere, more open about herself, than anyone he'd ever known, and he felt himself being pulled into her pace.

Mostly though, he noticed how she'd liked seeing the people – the tens of thousands in the stores – the energy they had, the way they fussed over how things fit, how buttons were placed, the quality of material and more. How they had the time to be concerned over those things, as if that simplicity was something to be envied, to be desired.

She wasn't a diplomat, and wasn't used to the games of power, but her very innocence made her all the more dangerous, as he couldn't keep his guard up around her.

And so, after one particular sign caught her attention at Piccadilly Circus – a billboard for a production of _The Tempest_ by the Royal Shakespeare Company at Stratford-upon-Avon, with the iconic line "O brave new world, that has such people in 't!" scribed upon it, the boy simply smiled.

"We can certainly do that," Shinji murmured, thinking that he did have tickets for a showing of _Arcadia_ at the Lyttelton Theatre that night. "In fact, I'd planned to go to one tonight. Would you mind if I kept what it was a surprise?"

"Yeah!" Ilya replied happily, squeezing his hand tightly. She looked up at the boy, about a head taller than her, with a sidelong glance. "Hey, how far is it to where we're going if we go on foot?"

"About 20 minutes," the boy supplied helpfully, his eyes meeting those of the girl beside him. "Why?

"No reason," Ilya said, averting her eyes as she stared at the neon lights in the intersesection. "I just feel like walking, since I have lots of things I want to talk to you about."

There was a heavy pause, as Shinji digested that.

"Alright," he said slowly. "We should drop these things off with Jeeves first, alright?"

"Ok."

Heading to the place where they'd left Jeeves, the Matou scion proceeded to do just that, telling the chauffeur to meet them after the evening showing of _Arcadia_ near the National Theatre.

Jeeves instead handed the boy a rectangular plastic object with a screen, a number pad and a few other buttons.

"When you need me, turn it on and press and hold 2," the man instructed.

"This is a…telephone?"

"Yes," Jeeves answered. "A mobile telephone. Dialing 2 will reach the phone assigned to the car."

"Huh," Shinji said, slipping the phone into his jacket pocket. He didn't know phones could be so…portable. He'd have to look into that sometime, if he ever found himself out and about more. "Thanks."

"Of course, sir," the man replied. "I do wish you and your companion a lovely evening."

* * *

With that, Shinji and Ilya headed off towards the south bank of the Thames, home of the National Theatre Complex – of which the Lyttelton Theatre was a part, not saying much as their steps moved in time to one another.

"…what do you want to talk about?" the boy asked, steeling himself for some rather stern questioning. "Did you want to know about Kiritsugu? Or his adopted son?"

Ilya, however, just made a face.

"I don't want to talk about that right now," the girl answered. "I want to talk about something more fun."

"Well, what do you consider fun, Ilya?" Shinji probed, trying to see if there was anything she liked or enjoyed in her past.

"I don't know," the girl replied bluntly. "I haven't talked to people much, so I don't know what I should talk about."

"You said you wanted to talk, despite that?" the boy inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't you get taught not to act on something until you think it through?"

"Heh. I'll let you do that sort of thing," the daughter of the Einzbern said simply, bringing a finger to her lips once more. "It's the man's responsibility to escort the lady, right? So all I have to do is follow you."

And so she did. For a while, as they walked, they talked about meaningless things. What she liked to eat, what she didn't like to eat – how she didn't eat at all sometimes because of what she was; how she liked birds and hated cats; how she liked the snow, but hated the cold.

She made a face at that last, letting go of his hand so she could clap her hands to her puffed-out cheeks, as if to emphasize the point.

"But shouldn't you be used to the cold?" Shinji inquired. "Given where you're from?"

"Yeah. I was born in the old Einzbern castle, where it was always snowing," Ilya said quietly. "But I would always stay warm in my room, because the cold isn't good for me. Just by myself." She shook her head at that. "And how about you? Grandfather said that as the oldest child of Makiri, you would be powerful – even dangerous. But you don't have any Circuits. You don't even feel human."

If this had been several years ago, Shinji would have blown his top at this, but as it was he just looked over at the girl, as her words confirmed something he'd long suspected about those that called themselves wizardkind.

' _Not human…? Then I was right…'_

"You noticed that, huh?" he asked. It was the first time actually he'd admitted to a lack of Circuits to anyone outside his family, but then, she already knew. "I'm not the heir either. Still, that doesn't make me not dangerous."

There was silence for a time, with their footsteps quiet under the starry London sky.

"…so what did you do with Kiritsugu's son?" she asked at last.

"Nothing," Shinji replied.

"You were at his funeral, and talked to his son," Ilya pressed, coming to a halt. Her eyes were deadly serious now as she stared at him – though it wasn't nearly as intimidating as Aozaki Aoko's wrath had been not too long ago. "What did you do?"

"I offered him a choice," Shinji said after a moment.

"A choice?"

"To continue on as he was, on a path that would lead to only to destruction in the end, or to step into a new world, leaving the past behind," he explained, which was true enough, but wasn't everything.

"He left everything behind then," the girl said bitterly, her voice a whisper as she trembled. "Just like Kiritsugu. Just like…" Just like her father had left _her_. Then…Makiri _hadn't_ done anything. Kiritsugu and his son had both…

She _shook_ , her small body wracked with tremors as tears began streaming down her alabaster cheeks, her hand slipping from the Matou boy's grasp as she just stood there. He wasn't lying – wouldn't lie – so what did that mean? Kiritsugu was gone. The boy he had chosen as son had left everything behind. And she…what did she have then?

…not even revenge. There was no one she could kill. No one she could take her feelings out on. No one she could—

Her eyes widened as Matou just gathered her up into a hug, holding her as she shook, as tears leaked from her eyes and the world around her seemed to spin.

She didn't know how long they stood there, only that when she stopped – when she came back to herself, he was still holding her gently. And she wondered why her foe, why someone from a family that was destined to be her enemy would treat her so kindly.

 _'The Makiri are treacherous,'_ her grandfather had told her. _'In their quest for a path to Akasha, they betrayed the Einzbern – the ones who gave them everything, who could have offered them a wish in return.'_

But right not, the scion of the Makiri didn't feel particularly treacherous. He just felt warm.

"The future isn't set in stone," Shinji related quietly. "Walking the path I was born to would only have led to despair in the end. Just like for Shirou, who had no Crest, no teacher, living as Kiritsugu's heir would have led him to war – and to his death."

"And what did you do then?" Ilya asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the Matou boy.

Shinji's lips quirked into a smile at a long distant memory.

"I took a leap of faith."

* * *

In the end, they got to the theatre just in time, taking their seats only minutes before the curtain lifted, and both Ilya and Shinji found different messages in the play's themes of the link between past and present, order and disorder, certainty and uncertainty, thought and feeling, with the end of the performance bringing all of these dichotomies together, showing that even in their contradictions, they can exist in the same time and space.

That even in what seems to be an ocean of chaos, islands of order could be found, that patterns made themselves out of nothing, because that's what humans did – created order out of the chaos they find in the world.

And yet in the creation, the frenetic drive to be, to live, to discover, something is lost, embodied in how the characters, who once seemed so harmonious, burned bridges in relationships, burned candles, and burned letters.

In the end, even one of the characters – a young genius who applied mathematics to the universe to calculate the future, burned to death, a candle that burned too brightly, too fast.

Yet not all was lost, as with her death, the one who had spent much time with her took up her challenge of calculating the future, putting aside the petty desires of his past and the flings he once had to dedicate himself to the memory of the one he loved – the one who had changed his world forever.

In a way, Matou Shinji felt a connection to that man, given that that was in some ways his story. The story of a boy from Fuyuki who had sought his fortune in a distant land, who had lusted after attention, recognition, glory – but whose life was forever changed because of someone he'd met – someone who challenged his horizons and understanding of the world, opening his mind to new possibilities, new paths, new goals.

Someone whose legacy – whose path – he walked even to this day.

Beside him, Ilya seemed to be finding the play interesting – or at least, she paid it rapt attention. It was perhaps not something as full of spectacle as the _Tempest_ or _Phantom of the Opera_ , but it was the first time she'd seen a production of anything, and the many timelines converging, overlapping and more kept things from becoming boring – though in the end, what she seemed to fixate on was the waltz between Septimus and Thomasina.

…the man who was changed, and the genius who had changed him.

* * *

"Does a gala involve dancing?" Ilya asked afterwards as they stood in the foyer of the National Theatre, given that the term had come up in the play.

"Yes, it certainly can," Shinji replied, a sudden – and unpleasant suspicion coming to his mind at the query. "Why?"

"I don't know how to dance," Ilya said bluntly.

It was as Matou Shinji feared. But how could this be? Illyasviel von Einzbern was _nobility_ – surely every noble knew how to dance.

…alas, this was not the case.

"Well, shall I teach you?" he offered, extending his hand to the girl. "We can't have the daughter of the Einzbern embarrassed at a gala after all."

"As you say, Makiri."

And so he took her hand, put one hand on the small of her back, and walked her through the steps of a waltz, humming the music to a tune he remembered from the Halloween Ball, with Ilya following along. It took some doing, and more than a bit of clumsiness, but finally, they managed to move more or less together…finishing to the sound of two people clapping – one slowly and politely, the other more enthusiastically.

Shinji turned to see who _this_ was, and froze as he came face to face with someone he had been thinking about all evening – and someone who in truth was never too far from his mind.

"Hello, Matou Shinji," a familiar purple-haired figure said to him, dressed, much as he remembered from their first meeting, in an all-white ensemble of long white skirt, white blouse, white stockings and even white boots made her seem almost otherworldly, with a golden scarf tied in a manner reminiscent of a cravat and a bracelet on each wrist providing the only splashes of color.

Beside and slightly behind her was a bespectacled girl with strawberry-blonde hair, dressed in a gown of red and black – and who notably also had purple eyes. Perhaps an aide?

"Director Atlasia," he said in greeting, inclining his head as Illyasviel stiffened beside him. "It is good to see you again."


	28. In the Land of Twilight

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 28.** _In the Land of Twilight_

There were many virtues that Tohsaka Rin, Second Owner of Fuyuki, possessed in abundance. She was an Average One, for one – capable of using all five of the Western Elements, had been instilled with a good work ethic, and was rather loyal to those she cared about.

(Kirei not being one of these, as the fake priest had proven himself rather untrustworthy, taking every possible opportunity to annoy her, such as giving unhelpfully vague hints when she had questions about training, booking the bootleg flight from Japan to London – which she'd learned from Matou was about twice as long as it had needed to be, and always giving her blue and white garments for her when he knew she preferred red and black).

Still, the girl was certainly not perfect. As talented young people sometimes are, she was a little quick to judge, was plagued with feelings of inadequacy – something not helped by Matou's generous gestures, and worst of all…she was not a morning person.

So, Tohsaka Rin proved this morning as she blearily opened her eyes after a long night of dreaming, her stomach letting out an audible gurgle and growl as if to remind her she hadn't eaten in nearly 24 hours.

' _Food. Need food.'_

Unable to form much in the way of complex thought, she sat up in bed, sniffing the air as something triggered the more primitive centers in her brain: the scent of coffee and something else.

Something delicious.

Eggs maybe. Or something else. Her higher cognitive functions weren't exactly working at the moment, but it didn't feel like she was in any danger, so her body just went on autopilot, mechanically shrugging off what she'd worn to bed the day before and padding over to where she thought a closet might be, fumbling about for a robe.

' _Robe. Where. Robe.'_

But as she reached into the closet, her hands found nothing at all. Not a single blouse. Not a single coat. Not a single robe.

' _Trunk.'_

Moving over to _Zelretch's Treasure Chest,_ she undid the fastenings with long practiced hands, grabbed the first garments she could reach – a set of pale yellow pajamas with paw prints all over them – and pulled them on, before following her nose towards the source of the scent, her stomach grumbling all the while.

Down the stairs and down the hall she went, swaying from side to side as she staggered about, her mind focused on a single goal: food.

…well, and coffee, but that was more or less a given.

As she arrived at the place where things were being made, she vaguely thought she saw a figure working at the stove, so she just held out her hand.

"Food. Coffee. Now," she mumbled in a dull monotone.

"Huh? What was that, Tohsaka?" a voice asked from beside her.

"Food. Coffee. Now," the magus repeated, not even really registering who the person talking to her was, just that someone was there.

"Here you go, have some waffles," a second voice added, pressing a plate into one of her hands, with the other quickly filled by a steaming mug of something aromatic and _caffeinated_. "Matou, could you move her to the dining table? We need room to cook."

"Of course, Luna," the first voice responded, as a hand found its way to the small of her back, guiding her over to a comfortable chair at the dining table. Her body knew what to do next as she sat down and tucked in with a set of utensils that had been thoughtfully placed there for her.

' _Mmm…'_

An unbidden moan of pleasure escaped her throat at the very first bite, as she'd anything like this before. Waffles given just a hint of crunch and sweetness by cornmeal, with a liberal drizzling of banana bourbon syrup, candied pecans, and banana slices, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream as the _pièce de résistance._

Bite after bit of decadent culinary delight, washed down by sips of a piping hot almond milk cappuccino, with its distinctive creamy nutty aftertaste.

Before she knew it, plate and cup were both empty, yet her stomach demanded more.

And as if whoever was making such wonderful food had read her mind, a new plate and mug were brought before her, with her sampling this dish and having an almost transcendental experience.

These weren't waffles, after all, but fluffy buttermilk pancakes garnished with bacon crumbles, the smoky sweetness of the banana bourbon syrup which topped it mingling with the savory taste of the maple smoked bacon that had been stirred into the batter itself, along with thinly sliced bananas. And they were utterly divine…even if they were a little burned.

With the help of all this delectable fare, the magus had just about begun to feel like a proper human being again, regaining an awareness of where she was – not in her house, but Matou's manor in London – and her current state: disheveled, wild-eyed and clad in her pajamas, with an excess of syrup around her mouth.

…and that there were two people looking at her from the doorway to the kitchen.

"I think she enjoyed it, don't you, Luna?" Matou was commenting to the girl beside him, a small silver-eyed blonde wearing a well-worn apron emblazoned with the words "Kiss the Cook" over a grey skirt and blouse that made her look almost like a beat poet, sans beret. "Even if I did burn the pancakes a little."

"Better than your first few tries at scrambled eggs and spam," Luna replied with a lopsided half-smile, taking a sip of what looked like almond milk. "Or much else last summer."

"In my defense, cooking over a campfire is a bit different from using a normal stove," Shinji grumbled, shaking his head as he reached over and wiped the resulting milk moustache from her upper lip. "Though the point is noted."

"Huh?" Tohsaka said intelligently, blinking at the sight of her audience, her mind struggling to process their rapidfire English this early in the morning.

"Ah, I think she's back," Shinji commented with a winning smile – all still in English, of course. "Good morning, Tohsaka. Welcome back to the land of the living. I don't think I've ever seen anyone enjoy a meal with such single-minded voraciousness before."

"Huh?" she repeated, the word voraciousness not being part of the vocabulary she'd learned in class.

Luna gave her companion a sidelong look and sighed.

"What Matou means is he's glad you enjoyed his pancakes so much," the blonde clarified matter-of-factly. "After all, it's the first time anyone's ever praised his cooking."

"You mean praised so highly," Shinji retorted, gesturing at Tohsaka's plate.

It was said that best praise a chef could receive was for someone to clean their plate, after all, and Tohsaka Rin had left nothing on hers – not a bit of pancake, a crumb of bacon, not even a hint of syrup.

Rin flushed at this, averting her eyes from her watchers.

"No, I mean the first time," Luna corrected dreamily, a smile on her face as she looked at Matou. "But it was quite good, wasn't it, Miss Tohsaka?"

"Um…yes," the magus responded, not knowing what to make of Matou and his companion Luna, whoever she was. Obviously they knew each other well enough to tease and banter without a care, and given the girl's remarks about the summer…

'… _is she one of Matou's companions in his order?'_

"Ah, where are my manners?" Shinji chuckled. "Tohsaka, I'd like you to meet Luna Lovegood, my training partner and one of my dear companions in the Stone Cutter Society. Luna, this is Tohsaka Rin, heiress of the house of Tohsaka. I suppose you could call her my childhood friend."

"Pleased to meet you," Luna murmured, setting down her cup and curtseying slightly. "I hope we get along."

Rin fumbled for the right way to respond in English, given that "Yoroshiku oneigaishimasu," the words she would have used in her native tongue, did not have an easy English equivalent.

"Nisu…to…met…yu, Runa," she said slowly, settling on one of the more common translations of the phrase. "Sank-yu for food."

"You're welcome," Luna replied gently. "I'm glad you liked the waffles – my mother used to make them like that. And Matou's pancakes too."

"Well, thank _you_ for teaching me how to make them, Luna," Shinji responded. "They were quite good."

Privately, he thought that this morning demonstrated exactly why he needed a maid for the house, even aside from the matter of keeping such a large manor clean. After all, if Tohsaka was always so very…dysfunctional in the morning, then that boded ill both for her chances of getting to the Tower on time and for his prospects if anyone ever decided to _attack_ his house.

Granted, he'd try to see if he could get bounded fields and other defenses erected, but those would only go so far if he needed something flexible but powerful – he couldn't have something which just vaporized people which got within a certain radius of the house as a function which was always on, for instance – that would attract too much attention since this was in the middle of a city.

"Of course, Matou," Luna replied warmly, to which Shinji smiled. "It's nice cooking with someone else."

"It is," Shinji agreed, before turning to Rin, who he could see was still more than a bit frazzled and embarrassed. To him, it was plain that the girl was looking for a chance to leave the area without seeming rude, so he just shook his head. "Tohsaka, we can clean up here. Why don't you go take a bath and unwind a little bit?"

With a mumbled thanks, she left the table and wandered back upstairs, this time being more careful to note where she was and her surroundings.

* * *

As Rin went to soak in the tub, feeling overwhelmed at the opulence of the bathroom all over again, Matou Shinji and Luna Lovegood remained downstairs, where they finished eating their own breakfasts. They'd been meaning to have everyone eat together, but Tohsaka's catatonia had put paid to those plans, so instead they'd made sure the girl had had enough to eat and drink, watching as Rin finally reached the required caffeine and sugar threshold she needed to achieve full wakefulness.

"Tohsaka seems nice," Luna commented as she watched the Asian girl disappear up the stairs.

"She is," Shinji agreed. "She just isn't entirely…" He trailed off, searching for the right word to use.

"Entirely what?"

"…honest," the boy settled on after a while. "To herself anyway." He shook his head with a rueful smile. "Shall we eat then? And afterwards, I can show you the house?"

"Mm, I'd like that," Luna replied.

And so they partook of their morning fare, enjoying the food they'd cooked together in kitchen of the new house, a familiar enough recipe for the blonde, if something rather exotic for the boy from the east.

Afterwards, they wandered the house, with Shinji stopping by study to pick up his gift for Luna – a rare first edition of _Le Petit Prince,_ along with the locket Tomas had given him – a Black Family Heirloom, the puppet had said.

" _Voici mon secret,"_ Luna read, her finger hovering over the inscription. " _Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux."_ She leaned back against Matou with a sigh. "It's a lovely gift."

"No more lovely than the gift of your company," Shinji replied with a chuckle. "Or the many things you've shown me." Things like the Come and Go Room, Spirit Fusion, and more.

"I rather enjoy yours too," the girl murmured, the scent of her hair clear and sweet, so that Shinji felt the urge to bend down and breathe her in. "Oh, and I have something for you too, back near the Floo."

The two retraced their steps, heading back to the reception room where Luna had come through that morning, with the girl pointing to the trunk she had brought with her – a creation of rich mahogany and goblin silver.

"There it is," she said, with Shinji crouching down to look at the item, taking note of the rich designs that had been etched into the wood – scenes from _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ , with the sign of the Deathly Hallows hiding the keyhole.

"This is…a chest?" asked the boy from the east, running his hands over the engravings of the brothers who had come face to face with Death, and what each had asked for in the end.

"Yes," Luna confirmed. "A goblin-made chest."

"Goblin-made, you say?" Shinji inquired, intrigued by this. "Is there anything special about it?"

"It's wizard-proofed, so it can't be affected by anyone else's magic after someone has been keyed to it with a drop of blood," the girl related. "Mother had one like it for her valuables."

"Your mother did, huh?" Shinji murmured, looking at it curiously. He'd been wondering how to keep his portable shoebox-sized vanishing cabinets safe, given who he was planning on corresponding with, and this was exactly what he needed. "Anything else about it?"

"It can store a bit more than its size would make it seem," Luna explained. "And it's quite durable too."

Though that brought up another point…

"So…what if someone was to use force to destroy the chest?" the boy asked, since even if practitioners of witchcraft couldn't directly affect it with thaumaturgy, that didn't rule out the option of physical force.

"They wouldn't be able to get access to what was within," Luna said quietly. "For someone besides the one keyed to it to try to destroy the chest physically would lead to everything inside vanishing."

' _Interesting…a failsafe. How sophisticated.'_

Shinji raised an eyebrow at this, wondering what kind of valuables were stored in this kind of chest. This seemed like something even a magus would appreciate…except, well…

"And if the owner dies?" Shinji questioned softly, looking over at Luna, knowing that her mother had passed away after one of her experimental charms went awry. "Then what?"

"The goblins keep records of who bought these chests, and for who," Luna commented in a fey voice, her silver eyes solemn in the morning light. "They can rekey the lock, if you possess the key, are named as inheriting, and can pay their rental fee."

"Mm…right. Goblin ownership, eh?" To Shinji, a system where the maker of such a good owned the good, and buyers only leased it was certainly interesting, though he could see how it could become convoluted as well. "Interesting. Thank you for everything."

"No need to thank me," Luna murmured, giving the boy a mysterious smile. "I'm just being who I am."

"And _that_ I'm thankful for," Shinji noted, taking the girl's hand. "Shall we continue the tour?"

"Yes."

* * *

He proceeded to show her the rest of the house, walking her through the various reception rooms, bedrooms, the conference area, and his penthouse, though she was most interested in his study, the room which housed a number of his treasures and purchases.

Here was stored the desk and chair made from the timbers of the _Golden Hind,_ his books on Alchemy and Necromancy, and his orphan Vanishing Cabinet, for instance, with Luna looking over everything with undisguised curiosity.

"The desk feels old," the Lovegood girl commented, running her fingers over reliefs which showed a group of huntsmen racing across the skies on hounds and horses. "I don't think I've seen something like this before, but I know what this shows."

"Oh?"

"The Wild Hunt," she said softly. "What Sir Podmore's Headless Hunt only imitates. When faeries ride to war. In Sweden, they say it is led by Odin. In England, King Arthur or Sir Francis Drake…"

"…whose ship was the _Golden Hind,"_ Shinji supplied, raising an eyebrow at the way his companion's fingers caressed the wood so sensually. "You know a lot about these legends."

He himself knew them because of a small ritual in his hometown called the Holy Grail War, but Luna didn't have that reason.

"They're stories," the girl murmured. "And stories are how we understand the world around us. How we see ourselves and where we fit."

"And the Wild Hunt?"

"It's…like fusion, really. Opening the senses, becoming more than the self, living through the world."

Her expression was almost otherworldly, but all too lonely as she spoke, looking up towards nothing at all in particular.

"I see," Shinji said quietly, stepping up behind her and giving her a warm hug, as he remembered her words from a few days ago – how lonely it was to be the only one who saw what others could not. It was a loneliness he knew well, yet in some ways, one he was only coming to know. The girl sighed in his arms, relaxing into his embrace. "Let's practice that together at Hogwarts, alright?"

"Alright," she whispered. "I'm glad you see these things too. That I can share these things with you."

"I'm glad too."

They remained like that for a while, enjoying each other's company before Luna broke the silence.

"Something feels strange," she commented, stepping out of Matou's embrace and moving over to the Vanishing Cabinet in the corner of the room.

"Oh? How so?" he asked, curious as to her thoughts. "It's just an orphan cabinet, isn't it?"

That was why Mr. Borgin had sold it to him so cheaply, after all, or at least that's what he figured afterwards, given that he now knew that Vanishing Cabinets weren't one-of-a-kind artifacts powered by a vanishing charm, but were instead more akin to the ends of Hijiri's portals – and that they always came in pairs.

"The charms don't work that way," Luna mentioned. "If it was really an orphan, it simply wouldn't work. My mother told me that."

"Huh," Shinji said, his eyes narrowing. Did that mean that Borgin had ripped him off? Or that the man had wanted to get rid of this one, without dealing with the consequences? "Then let's try it. If the charms still work then we'll try going through it."

He looked about the room for something he might feel comfortable sending through, but didn't see anything. Everything here was valuable – incredibly so.

' _Nothing to be done then.'_

So, with nothing else conveniently available, he withdrew one of his _ofuda_ strips, opened the Vanishing Cabinet's doors and placed the strip within.

But nothing happened. The slip of paper remained stubbornly there.

"I guess it doesn't work then," he remarked, only for Luna to stop him with a look. "What?"

"You have to close the door," she explained.

"Oh. Well then," Shinji said. He closed the cabinet's door and waited to the count of 10 before opening it.

The _ofuda_ was gone.

"Mm, let's try it then," Luna said dreamily, climbing into the full-size cabinet and closing the door behind her before Shinji could react.

When he opened it again, she was gone, with a sudden sense of unease gripping him, before she appeared again, handing him his slip of paper.

"Come on," she murmured, her finger brushing against his palm. "It's Hogwarts on the other side."

And with that she closed the door again, vanishing.

' _Hogwarts? The cabinet leads to Hogwarts?!'_

It wasn't an orphan after all?

He had to wonder in that moment if Luna was very brave for going through the passage without knowing where it led, very foolish, or just accepted the risks as part of being alive, much as magi accepted that to use thaumaturgy was to walk with death.

' _Alright. No time like the present, I suppose.'_

Following in Luna's footsteps, he opened the door, climbed inside, and closed the door behind him. There was a momentary whisper, almost as if stepping through a vast expanse in a moment, and then he emerged into a vast hallway across from a suit of armor, in what very much seemed like Hogwarts, with Luna taking his hand and helping him to the ground.

* * *

"This does look like Hogwarts," Shinji murmured, looking around at the familiar sights all around him. This was perhaps something of a disused corner of the castle, but it was the castle all the same, he thought.

' _But how to be sure…?'_

Then something came to mind.

"Kizzy, are you there?" he asked.

With a _crack_ , the familiar little humanoid creature appeared, a house-elf, who like most of his ilk was about a meter tall at most, with spindly arms and legs, bat-like ears, and bulging green eyes set in an oversized head.

"How is Kizzy be helping young masters today?" it asked with a bow, looking at first Shinji, then Luna.

' _That settles it. This is Hogwarts then.'_

And in that case…

"Kizzy, do you remember the special order you made for me two years ago?" Shinji inquired, recalling the Christmas Eve dinner he'd shared with Sokaris in Ravenclaw Tower, a fine dining twist on the usual fried chicken and cake one normally enjoyed in Japan.

The house-elf nodded.

"Kizzy remembers, young master. Would yous and Mistress Lovegood be wanting the same thing today?" Kizzy questioned, staring at the Matou boy with his protuberant green eyes.

"If you could make servings for four people, then that would be most appreciated," Shinji directed, closing his eyes in thought. "Could you place all of that on a table in the Come and Go Room tonight around 6 pm?"

"That Kizzy can doing!" the elf nodded. "Is there anything else Kizzy can do for young masters?"

"Yes, actually," Luna remarked, her voice clear and quite present in the moment. "Could you move us and this Vanishing Cabinet over to the entrance of the Come and Go Room?"

With another _crack,_ it was done, with the two practitioners of witchcraft appearing alongside the cabinet across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and the house elf vanishing back to the kitchens with a bow.

Shinji didn't have to guess what Luna wanted next, as the blonde walked back and forth three times, materializing the doorway to the Room of Hidden Things.

"You want to put the cabinet here?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow. "I had thought to put it in Founders' Tower."

That way, it would be open to all the Stone Cutters. Then again…

"Some things are better kept a mystery," Luna murmured. "Like this room, and a way into Hogwarts no one else knows about."

Shinji chuckled, remembering how magi thought about the world and how their reason for secrecy was indeed to prevent the dilution of mystery, weakening their craft. He supposed the same principle applied here, since an outsider would not look favorably on a secret way to get in and out of Hogwarts without anyone else the wiser.

"You're right, Luna," Shinji conceded, his lips curving up into an impish smile. "It will be our secret, just between the two of us."

Like many of the other things they shared.

"Mm, and our familiars," the silver-eyed girl corrected.

"And our familiars, true enough," the boy grunted. He hadn't thought to include them as he thought that was already implied, as many considered a familiar as an extension of a master's will. Then again, with Zelkova being as independent as he was, he supposed Luna had a point.

"I will say that most wouldn't use a secret passage just to get around having to cook," Luna chided, though her words were only half-serious, with her expression holding a hint of mischief.

Shinji winced, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Well, if the house elves are happy to serve, why deny them the pleasure?" he rationalized.

"True. But I was thinking we could use it to practice," Luna commented, her eyes solemn. "Like we normally do in the mornings."

"…that's a good point." The boy sighed, shaking his head. "I just haven't been in the mood lately since I've been having strange dreams. I haven't slept well the last few days."

"The same dreams as when we were in the woods?"

"…not entirely, though how did you know that?" he asked. He didn't think he'd talked about the oddness of his dreams with anyone before.

"You talk in your sleep," Luna related.

"…heh. I suppose you'd know," Shinji said in a near whisper. "You're the only one who has ever…"

He trailed off, his cheeks holding a faint hint of red as he averted his eyes. They'd been very close that summer, with him sleeping in her bed and such – and he knew she'd watched over him while he'd been unconscious after the fight against that… _tanuki._

"Dreams are dreams," he heard, as he felt Luna take his hand. "Sometimes they are pieces of a world yet to be born. Sometimes they are secrets whispered into your thoughts. Sometimes they are the past. And sometimes…"

"Sometimes…?" Shinji echoed.

"Sometimes they're just dreams," Luna said seriously, with Shinji nodding slowly at this. "A little bit of sanity in this insane world."

"You think the dreams are the sane part?" Shinji questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Not reality?"

"Mm, one only has to look at everyone else to know that," she responded. "There's a certain kind of looniness that affects all of us. Especially around our age."

"Looniness, you call it?"

"When boys do foolish things just to impress girls, or girls change who they are just for attention," Luna quipped. "Neither are happy, yet they do it all the same, because everyone else is. What else is that but looney?"

Shinji had not thought about it that way before…

"What can I say? It's a mad world," he said at last, as he didn't have any good response to the observation. "But at least you're sane. Saner than I am, sometimes."

"No, just the same," Luna murmured, twining her fingers with his. "Just the same."

Between the two of them, moving the cabinet inside the Room was quick work, with the two taking house-elf apparition to the hallway outside Shinji's study room afterwards. It wouldn't do to be seen by any of the students or faculty, after all, since neither were officially _here,_ with both having put themselves down on the list of those going home.

"It's not much," the boy admitted, quickly unlocking the door and undoing the _ofuda_ defenses, "but it's one of the few places at Hogwarts where I feel completely…safe."

"Mm."

They opened the door and saw a most unexpected sight.

In a shaft of sunlight, a silver-haired boy sat in perfect _seiza_ -style, his white Japanese-styled clothing scattering light around the room, such that he and the room seemed to be one. The posture of the _kodama_ was dignified, yet natural, with nothing stiff about it, and for a second Shinji thought he'd stepped into a room where the other was holding court, though the effect was a bit marred by the presence of a white fox perched on the other's head.

As if awakening from sleep at the presence of another, Zelkova opened his eyes, looking upon his master and his master's usual companion.

"Ah, Master," Zelkova said in greeting. "I had not thought you would be returning for some time. Has something happened?"

Pandora, the fox, was much less reserved, as she bounded from the _kodama's_ head, scurring across the floor and nuzzling her Master as her form vanished into motes of light, with Luna gaining the usual accoutrements of her fusion form – white fluffy ears and a very fluffy tail.

Shinji felt a stab of envy at how easily Luna seemed to shift between forms, without the difficulties he faced in the process. But then, she'd had access to spirit fusion for a fair bit longer than he, and was not stretched nearly as thin by obligations.

"We found a secret way to Hogwarts," he said simply.

"Ah," the _kodama_ noted. "Curious. There are several hidden passageways in the castle, but none which reached as far as your residence, as far as I am aware." He looked over at the fused form of Luna Lovegood and nodded. "Miss Lovegood."

"Hullo Zelkova," the girl said in turn, curtseying to the familiar. "I hope Pandora didn't trouble you too much."

"Quite the opposite. It has been…pleasant speaking of the East, and how different Hogwarts is from the forests from which we both hail. It has also been interesting comparing Acromantulae with _Tsuchigumo_ and _Jorōgumo_."

Both of those were examples of spider-like _youkai_ from Japanese myth, with _Jorōgumo_ being shapeshifters who could take the form of beautiful women, while _Tsuchigumo_ having a more varied set of abilities that included the ability to take the form of other _youkai_ (like a _tanuki_ ), to use powerful curses, and rock shattering strength.

"I'm glad," Luna noted. She'd left Pandora behind to keep Zelkova company, as she'd thought the _kodama_ might be a little lonely at Hogwarts otherwise.

"Did you come to any conclusions?" Shinji asked, curious as to what the two _youkai_ thought about the Acromantulae.

"Only that while Acromantulae are intelligent and possess a measure of resistance to your wand abilities, they lack the varied abilities of the _youkai_ of our homeland, magical or otherwise," the youth noted, rising to his feet in a single, smooth motion. "They cannot use their silk on the fly to bind us, nor can they cast curses. Such is good, as your plan of assaulting the hollow with six would be…suicidal instead of simply reckless."

"Simply reckless, you say. You think we have a chance then?" the Matou scion questioned, curious as to his familiar's opinion on all this.

"If you are prepared and strike at an opportune moment, then yes," the _kodama_ allowed. "And speaking frankly, Master, it would be wise to focus on your ability to achieve and sustain fusion."

"…that much I'd already concluded," Shinji said with a sigh. "I'll be in your care then, Zelkova."

"Mine and Miss Lovegood's," the _youkai_ corrected with a slight smile. "After all, there _is_ something to be said about gaining competence through battle, as long as your mind is focused and open."

"Noted. Speaking of an open mind, Zelkova, I was wondering if you could do something for me?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Well, first, can you materialize your spiritual body around your tree so you can carry it with you?" Shinji inquired. It would be useful if the _kodama_ could do so, keeping his hands free for combat if necessary.

"I can," Zelkova admitted. "Shapeshifting is one of the things we are known for, after all."

"In that case, please do so, and I'll show you the secret route to my new manor," the boy said grandly.

Each using their own method of achieving invisibility – a potion in Shinji's case, and _youkai_ abilities in the case of Zelkova and Luna in her fusion form, they returned to the Room of Hidden Things, coming to stand before the Vanishing Cabinet which led to 12 Grimmauld Place.

"This is it. If you climb in and close the door behind you, it will transport you to the matching cabinet at my manor," Shinji explained, with Zelkova eyeing the purchase curiously.

"It reminds me of the portal system of _Mahoutokoro,_ if in a more limited form," the _kodama_ remarked. "Curious. Though what is it you require, Master?"

"Tonight, I will be hosting a dinner for Harry, Luna, and the Second Owner of Fuyuki, Tohsaka Rin," the Matou scion noted. "The house-elves of Hogwarts will be supplying the food, but I lack a way to get it to my manor, as I cannot simply disappear at a moment's notice."

"…you wish for me to act as your butler then, Master?" Zelkova asked skeptically. "Bringing the food across and the plates back?"

"…for lack of a better word, yes, if you don't mind."

Shinji did feel a bit bad to have to ask this of his familiar, but it was the only viable option he could see that might work.

"I suppose it could be amusing," the _kodama_ admitted. "I have been curious as to western holiday customs, with the excitement many around the castle have displayed. And it is a small price to pay to have access to a secure route of travel." Then the familiar smiled. "Perhaps a short bout first, since Miss Lovegood is already in her fusion form?"

Shinji swallowed, but calmed himself, breathing in deeply and slowly.

"Why not?"

* * *

When Tohsaka Rin finished her bath, changed into attire that was somewhat more suitable to wear in public – a cream-colored sweater, long black skirt, and stylish black boots, unpacked some of her clothes – and the owl – and came downstairs once more, she was surprised to find the house utterly quiet, without any trace of someone being there at all.

' _Where are they?'_ she wondered. Surely Matou and Runa hadn't just left her behind after her admittedly embarrassing display this morning.

Had they gone to his workshop, perhaps? Or—

A door opened on a landing several floors above, with Luna Lovegood and Matou Shinji stepping out of it and coming down the stairs together, features flushed, hair in disarray, and considerably more relaxed than they'd seemed that morning. Such was natural after all, given that such was what one might expect after the exertion – and exhilaration – of battle.

Tohsaka Rin blinked as she looked at the two, who were looking rather more untidy than before.

"Hello, Tohsaka," Shinji said as he saw his childhood friend, giving her a once over. "Sorry to take so long. Morning training took a little longer than expected." He gave the girl a winning smile. "I hope you enjoyed your bath?"

"Um. Ye-su," Rin replied, glancing back and forth between the two of them. She only half-remembered the tour of the house Matou had given her, but didn't think there was a workshop up there. Just Matou's study and his private suite of rooms.

She also hadn't sensed any magical energy being discharged, which meant he either had a very good localized bounded field, or they had done some physical sparring, though either way. Still, she was inclined to believe him, as he was a knight, after all.

"Glad to hear it," Shinji noted, an odd expression flitting across his features for a moment, though Rin didn't have the faintest idea what it meant. "Would you like to see more of London today? Might be a good chance to practice your English a bit."

Rin looked a little chagrined at that, but nodded.

"Wh-er are we go-ing?" she asked slowly.

"Why, where else?" Shinji asked expansively. "The British Museum, of course."

Tohsaka Rin just nodded, hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself if they went to the Clock Tower and met with her sponsor, El Melloi II.

* * *

On the ride over to the museum, courtesy of Jeeves and the Tower's expense account, Matou Shinji had a chance to reflect on the events of the day before. His meeting with Illyasviel, where he had learned that she was – in many ways – much like him. Shopping in London and coming to appreciate the simple pleasures of life.

And of course, the play _Arcadia,_ after which had come an impromptu dance lesson and a meeting with the Director of Atlas.

" _Director Atlasia," he'd said in greeting, inclining his head as Illyasviel stiffened beside him. "It is good to see you again."_

" _Indeed. Our encounters are rarely unpleasant, Matou Shinji," Sion Eltnam Atlasia_ _had commented, with her eyes shifting to the silver-haired homunculus by Shinji's side. "And you are Illyasviel von Einzbern, of the Three Founding Families."_

" _I prefer Ilya," the daughter of the Einzberns had said, curtseying to the director of Atlas Academy. "You are well-informed, Director."_

" _Naturally. He_ did _presume on my authority to invite you, after all," the purple-haired woman had noted coolly, her gaze sharp and not entirely approving. "Thus, I was…curious to meet the one he had invited, a descendant of the Master of Northern Alchemy, no less."_

 _Shinji had winced at the hint of reproach in Sion's voice. Now that he thought about it, perhaps he_ had _overstepped his bounds just a bit with how he'd written the invitation._

"… _so that is why_ grandfather _sent me here," Ilya had realized. "Because of the involvement of Atlas."_

" _A safe assumption." With that, the Director's severe expression had dissipated slightly. "I trust you enjoyed the play? I thought it was…fitting, given our shared history."_

" _Quite." Shinji was less than surprised to find that this hadn't been a coincidence. Those were rare and few and far in between when one was dealing with an Alchemist of Atlas, after all, one of those which indeed calculated the future._

" _Good." The_ _Alchemist had smiled slightly at that. "In that case, I must depart for the evening, but I look forward to seeing you and your companion at the gala, Matou. As for you, Illyasviel…"_

" _Yes, Director?" the homunculus had asked, knowing that as powerful as she was, it was utter folly to incur the displeasure of someone who headed one of the Three Great Branches, especially the Director of Atlas Academy. There was a saying among the northern alchemists that one should not lift the seal of Atlas, after all, lest the world be destroyed seven times over…_

" _I request your presence on the morrow," Sion had said_. " _Mashu Kyrielite, who the Animusphere family has assigned as my aide while in London, will contact you tomorrow morning."_

 _The bespectacled girl curtseyed as her name was mentioned, with Shinji curious about why_ she _had been assigned as Sion's aide, and not an Alchemist._

" _I look forward to it," Illyasviel had replied._

" _Until then."_

 _And with that, the Director and her aide had walked out into the night, and vanished, leaving Matou Shinji with not a small bit of worry over what was to happen over the next few days._

" _What are your intentions, Makiri?" Ilya had asked after that, her voice quiet in the wake of the Alchemist's departure. "And what is your relationship with the Director of Atlas?"_

" _My intention – for tonight, at least – is to escort you to your hotel room," Shinji had said simply. It was best not to plan anything too far in advance if Sokaris were getting involved, after all. "After that, I will see you on Christmas for the gala."_

" _If the Director allows," Ilya had replied, seeming almost frightened. She had no idea what the head of a Great Branch wanted with her, after all, and if the other were displeased, well…_

 _But Shinji took her hand reassuringly._

" _I don't think Sok—Sion is going to do anything untoward." Given that it was rare for Sokaris to deign to spend time with people she didn't consider important or useful, he didn't think she would waste time on a grudge. "She probably just wants to get to know you."_

" _Are you sure…?" The homunculus was not at all certain that Makiri was correct, given that people on that level didn't do things for such a simple reason._

" _She won't hurt you. You have my word on it."_

 _The absolute faith with which Shinji had said those words, more than the words themselves, struck her, given the purity of the emotion behind it._

" _You trust her."_

 _Much as she'd once trusted Kiritsugu. Much as she had once taken what people said at face value. Ilya wasn't a complicated girl, really. In many ways, she just wanted to live like everyone else did, to play, to experience the world – and yet she wished sometimes that she were still innocent of betrayal._

 _Matou wasn't. He had lived in this world, seen betrayal, suffered from not being their heir of his family, lacking even Magic Circuits. And yet he placed such confidence in someone who by any right should have little use for him…_

 _Why?_

" _With my soul itself."_

 _Not his life, but his soul? That had interesting significance for a member of the Einzbern, given what their True Magic had once been._

"… _I do not understand you, Makiri," Ilya had said, in a bell-like beautiful voice._

" _And I don't ask you to. Just, give the Director a chance."_

After that, he'd walked Ilya through one final dance for the evening, before escorting her back to her hotel, where they'd parted for the night, with him giving her his contact information in case she needed to reach him for anything.

Back in the present, the trip to the museum was rather uneventful, though it was nice to see how differently Luna and Rin reacted to seeing it for the first time. Luna seemed fascinated by the work of the Babylonians and things of the East – of China, Japan, and more, while Rin, to no surprise, seemed to enjoy the exhibit on the Hoxane Hoard, the largest hoard of late Roman silver and gold discovered in Britain, as well as other collections which focused on things like jewels and the role of gold in human history.

For lunch, of course, they'd had takeout from KFC, as Rin had been utterly amazed to see one with no line at all, given how packed such restaurants would be around this time of year in Japan. Luna had seemed to enjoy it well enough, though, so Shinji had hidden his amusement.

…after all, dinner would be fried chicken as well, if a little more…refined.

* * *

And before they knew it, the excursion to London was over, with the trio returning to the Matou manor for dinner, just as Harry arrived through the Floo, dressed in his finest, seeming utterly unsurprised at the sight of Luna, as if he'd more or less expected her to be there.

"Lady Tohsaka, we meet again," Harry said with a bow, looking much as Rin remembered him from their brief meeting in Fuyuki. "It is quite a pleasure."

"And yu, Har-i Potter," Rin replied, matching the bow with a curtsey. "A pre-sure to met yu again."

"Shinji, Luna," he said, greeting the others.

"Good to see you, Harry," Shinji intoned, a sly smile crossing his lips as he saw his friend. "So how have the past few days at Greengrass Manor been?"

"Q-quite good," Harry related, looking about the house and raising an eyebrow as he saw the gilded ceilings. "…this is quite a house. I suppose the purchase was worth it, then."

The Boy-Who-Lived looked between Luna and Rin, sighing internally at whatever Matou was up to. Still, Matou was his best friend, and it wouldn't do to forget his manners.

"Thanks for inviting me, by the way," Harry said simply.

"Of course. Who else should I share my first Christmas Eve with in this house than some of the people closest to me?" Shinji asked, as Rin blushed ever so slightly at the implication that Matou considered her someone he was close to.

In an ideal world, he would have liked to spend it with Sion, but he knew that wasn't exactly practical, and this group of friends was as much as he could ask for: the girl who had once embodied his hopes and dreams, the Boy-Who-Lived whose influence had given him such prominence, and the girl who was his partner as he walked towards an ever-distant utopia.

"It's good to know you still consider us good friends," Harry remarked. "But then you always were someone I could count on. You've taught me a lot over the years. Thanks."

"Hopefully only good things," Shinji replied wryly. "Wouldn't want my reputation to be tarnished, after all."

"I could say that, except that it's not good to lie, Matou…" Harry trailed off, with Luna laughing at the repartee of the two, and Rin having a bit of trouble following. "You've cooked up something wonderful for dinner, I hope?"

"Well, why don't you see for yourself?" Shinji asked, leading the others to the dining room, with the table set perfectly and enough seats for the four of them.

As they sat, a silver-haired boy dressed all in white came through the doorway, bearing a tray and several covered dishes.

"Dinner is served, Master," Zelkova said as he set out the night's dining selection for the foursome, starting with a fig, cheese, and prosciutto plate to share and a small bowl of French onion soup and accompanying gougère (a baked savory choux pastry made of choux dough mixed with cheese, filled with delicate mushrooms) for each of them. "Can I get the four of you anything to drink?"

Luna and Rin both asked for ginger beer, with Harry asking for Pumpkin juice and Shinji for a spot of Earl Grey, all of which were promptly delivered, with the familiar bowing once more and telling them to enjoy.

Harry was impressed not only by the quality of service Shinji seemed to get, but also by the quality of the food as he tasted the soup, his eyes widening at how the delicate flavoring of the broth was a perfect accompaniment to the creamy earthiness of the cheese and mushrooms in the pastry.

"Mm…this is delicious – just as good as the food we get at Hogwarts," Harry commented, his eyes closed as he savored the dish. "I had no idea you were such a good cook, Shinji."

"Neither did I, actually," Shinji quipped airily, shaking his head. "After all, this wasn't my doing. I just know a good place or two."

He glanced over at Luna to see the girl smiling with the amusement of a shared secret, as they ate, with Rin trying her best to make conversation in English, and the others accommodating her pace.

Once they were finished with their appetizers, Zelkova appeared once more, whisking away their empty plates and bringing out the main entrée: a French twist on fried chicken, along with two large bowls – one filled with sweet corn mixed with butter, cilantro, and fresh lime juice, and the other filled with wild mushroom macaroni and cheese slathered in rich Fontina and Asiago cheese, with an extra dimension of texture from cracker meal bread crumbs mixed into the dish.

"Why fried chicken?" Harry asked curiously. It smelled – and looked – absolutely mouthwatering, but he was used to the roasted turkey, crumpets, and sausages of a usual British dinner.

"Because that's part of a traditional Christmas meal in Japan, along with Christmas Cake," Shinji explained. "Only usually, we would just pick up Christmas bucket from Kentucky Fried Chicken instead."

"Huh. How long has this been tradition?"

"Oh, the 1970s?" Shinji thought aloud. "Whenever the restaurant began its Kentucky for Christmas campaign. In Japan, Christmas is a holiday associated with western prosperity, so we eat mostly western foods."

"That's kind of interesting," Harry allowed, taking a moment to sample the chicken. "Mm…" From the very first bite, it was delectable, with the skin delicately crisp, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, the meat plump and dripping with flavor, and the sharp taste of the Dijon dipping sauce that came with it simply to die for. And with the creamy bed of buttery _pomme purée_ (mashed potatoes) accompanying it, the experience was simply sublime. "Wow…"

Rin's eyes were closed as she sampled the fare, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips before she could stifle it.

And even Luna made a sound of appreciation.

'… _I'm glad people like the menu…'_

They talked as they ate, sharing stories about the year so far, their conversation covering some of the events of the Potions challenges, questions from Harry why Shinji had asked him to go to Diagon Alley to be fitted – and for what, and talk about what Japan was like, most of which Shinji let Rin field, since he thought she needed the practice.

Eventually, they cleaned their plates, thinking that was it, but of course it wasn't, as no meal was quite complete without dessert.

And so Zelkova cleared away the empty plates once more, bringing fresh ones – and a white strawberries and cream sponge cake, frosted with whipped cream and topped with fresh strawberries. What was more, the strawberries had been bisected, with a dollop of cream and chocolate between the halves resembling nothing so much as smiling faces.

" _Kawaii…"_ Rin murmured.

"Yes, it is rather cute, isn't it?" Shinji agreed, with Harry just staring at the cake, as its aesthetic was slightly at odds with the rest of the meal. "It's quite good though." His voice took on a more somber cast as he addressed the Boy-Who-Lived. "This meal – it's the same menu I shared with Sokaris two years ago, before…"

"Ah…" Harry said. There was a great bit of meaning in the meal then, but then Matou had always been more than he let on, known more than he revealed. He was touched that his friend from the east would share the experience of that meal with them, with this providing the Boy-Who-Lived a bit of much needed closure. "She never struck me as someone who took much pleasure in life."

"She wasn't," Shinji noted. "She had a hard life – like you, me, and all of us here." Which was an understatement if anything. How she'd managed to deal with staving off the corruption of vampirism he had no idea, but the sheer force of will it must have taken… "But she never really held grudges either, Harry. And I'm sure, wherever she is now, she doesn't blame you for what happened. Just as I don't blame you – because you did all that you could. It would be folly for me – or her – to blame you for that."

It was all Harry could do not to break down in tears at Matou's words. Matou, he knew, had been the closest person in the world to Sokaris, and though it had been two years, it was plain to see that the boy still cared for the purple-haired girl. The boggart incident had made that clear enough, as had Matou's words afterwards.

"Thank you," he'd whispered. This dinner, this sense of release at last, was probably the best Christmas gift anyone could have given him. "Thank you."

Harry left shortly after the dinner, as he didn't want to spill his tears in front of Tohsaka Rin, whereupon Shinji revealed to that Zelkova, far from just being a butler, was actually his familiar.

Rin of course, was utterly flabbergasted by the notion of a shapeshifting familiar, and more so that Matou had bound a powerful nature spirit – _an elemental –_ to his service.

Such was…impressive, to say the least.

* * *

Sometime later, the house was quiet once again, with Rin having gone to sleep, Zelkova meditating in Shinji's study (and Pandora seated atop his head), and Luna and Shinji sitting together on the couch in his suite of rooms, looking up at the night sky.

"Luna?" he asked quietly, his arms wrapped tight around the girl sitting on his lap, as the moonlight shone down upon them.

"Mhm?" the blonde murmured.

"Could you look after Tohsaka on Christmas? I have something to take care of, and I don't want her to be left alone all day. You remember how she was at breakfast."

The girl chuckled quietly.

"Mm, I can do that," she answered, turning her head to look at him. "Is there anything special you want me to do?"

"No," Shinji said after a moment's thought. "Just make her feel welcome. And don't overwhelm her, I guess."

"Alright," Luna murmured agreeably, nuzzling the boy's nose. "Our Christmases are quiet at home, with just me and Dad, so I don't think it will be that bad. Although I might not take her to the Weasleys then."

"…that, might be a bit much," Shinji noted with a sigh, his fingers stroking the girl's spine. "So when do you have to be back tonight?"

"I don't," she whispered, as she snuggled against him. "Tohsaka is a nice person."

"Oh?"

"Lonely, but nice. She likes you, you know."

"Heh," Shinji said. That was a bit odd to think about, really. Years ago, he supposed he would have been overjoyed, but now? "She probably just thinks that because I'm the one person she finds familiar here. I wouldn't be good for her."

"Mm, you are a little different," she murmured, twining her fingers with his as she curled up against him. "To most people, it's like you and I are from different worlds. It surprises them because they only see the world one way. And your kindness confuses them."

"I suppose," he said. That was certainly true of Ilya, after all, but he didn't know if he was being kind, or just saving his own skin. "I think it's just luck and circumstance, really."

"There's some of that, but all the same."

"Yeah…" Shinji sighed, pulling back so he could see the luminous silver of Luna's eyes. "There is something else though…"

"I thought there was," she surmised, the fingers of her free hand brushing his skin as they breathed in time with one another. "You're tenser than usual."

Shinji chuckled softly.

"For Christmas, I'm meeting with someone who is supposed to be my worst enemy," he admitted after a while. "A monster worse than…worse than my grandfather ever saw. Someone who from birth should have been raised to think I was worthy of death. But…"

"But…?"

"She's not at all what I thought she'd be like," the boy concluded, feeling a pang of sympathy from deep inside him.

"Oh?"

"…she's like how I used to be, a long time ago," he said softly, shaking his head, recalling a memory from his first days in _Mahoutokoro_. "It's as if she's…running."

"Running?" Luna echoed.

"Running away from something she knows she can't escape," Shinji spoke softly. "Running with all her might, refusing to admit to what she knows – that in the end, whatever is chasing her will catch up. That in the end, the dream will end. I know how that feels."

"And are you still running?" she asked, the fingers of her free hand brushing his collarbone, leaving shivers in their wake.

"Running, yes," he said quietly, his eyes filled with some indescribable emotion. "But not away. My first year at Hogwarts, I found a goal to live for. Something to run towards, to strive for, to aspire to." Shinji noted, his lips brushing her forehead. "I wish I could explain more clearly, but I'm not used to talking to people about this. There's only ever been two people I've trusted completely. Sokaris was one. You're the other."

"Tell me about her."

He mentioned a few things about the first year – how they'd keep each other company, how she'd known of the Room of Hidden Things and Come and Go Room, how different Sokaris had been. How in some ways she'd kept him sane.

But beyond that…

"Some of it, I still can't talk about," he replied. He was under geas not to reveal that she'd lived, after all, and he didn't Luna would understand what it meant that Sokaris was the Director of Atlas, someone so far beyond him that sometimes he didn't know how to even begin measuring up.

"Then don't. I'm honored you keep me so close to your heart that the only other person you think about is her," Luna murmured dreamily, leaning in close. "Just as you are always close to mine."

"Luna, I…"

"Just follow what your heart tells you," she murmured dreamily, the tips of her fingers brushing against his lips.

And so he did, pulling her to him and sealing her lips with a tender kiss.

* * *

"Was the meal to your liking, Illyasviel?"

Elsewhere, the Director of Atlas was finishing up a day with the Einzbern heiress, given how unusual she found the other's presence in London – and seeing how useful an opportunity it was to discuss business related matters.

"It was good. But why chicken?" Ilya questioned, wondering why the Director had chosen a menu like this.

"A…friend once told me it was tradition to have chicken for Christmas," Sion responded, with Illyasviel von Einzbern looking at her askance.

"…you mean Makiri, don't you?" the girl asked sullenly. She didn't like these formal dinners very much, and even if the Director had gone out of her way to try to be informal, she wasn't used to it – and it showed.

"Indeed," the purple-haired woman admitted.

"How'd he catch the attention of a Director anyway?" the homunculus asked, her eyes intent and curious, despite herself.

But the answer she received floored her.

"Without him, I would not have succeeded in attaining the Philosopher's Stone," Sion said, with Ilya just staring, all sense of propriety gone.

"What."

"I do not believe your auditory circuit is impaired, Illyasviel," the Director noted, with the girl utterly dumbfounded by this. How was it that a _Makiri_ had become so great at Alchemy when her own family had never achieved that miracle? "However, as it so happens, I have a proposition."

"Oh?" Ilya inquired, wondering what one of the most powerful people in the world had to say to her, one who was destined to simply become a Holy Grail. "And what might that be?"

"In the wake of my ascension, I find that is a position at the Academy that I have not been able to fill," the Alchemist of Atlas began. "One I think you may be qualified for."

"If you're offering me a job, I won't live very long, you know," the homunculus commented. "Maybe half a decade more. I won't look a day older than ten, even I'm fourteen now."

"That is no concern when I possess the Philosopher's Stone," the Alchemist rejoined, as Illyasviel stiffened once more. "And the water of life, the cure for even death. Of course, there would be a price for such healing."

"You have my attention," Ilya admitted. She'd never thought it was possible that she might live to see the age of 20, and yet…the Director of Atlas was offering her this? What did – what could – she want in return? "What exactly are you proposing?"

"Come to Atlas," Sion said simply. "I have made some inquiries, and I know of your ancestor, the Winter Saint you were coined after. As such, you would make an excellent…"

She trailed off, as Ilya leaned in.

"…an excellent what?" the girl asked.

"Vice Director."


	29. Under the Moon

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 29.** _Under the Moon_

On the roof terrace, surrounded by a panoramic view of the River Thames, two seeming-lovers were caught up in an intimate embrace, their bodies moving to a rhythm all their own in the fading afternoon sun. There had been some initial awkwardness as they'd fumbled about, some experimentation as they tried out different positions and different movements, getting used to each other's quirks and preferences, but by now they knew each other well.

Trusted one another, at least in this, as they moved quickly, languidly, sensually about, waltzing their way through a temporary space that was theirs and only theirs as long as the music remained. For dance was a language of its own, one that needed no words and no letters, simply a few seeds of trust and vulnerability, as hands, feet, and bodies said what lips could never do.

Perhaps that was the two ancestral foes threw themselves into the art with as much passion as they did, because it was the only way they could speak of the deep-hidden anxieties they shared – the worries, insecurities, and other things they didn't have the words to describe.

She was a homunculus of the Einzbern, who was destined from birth to become a Master in the Holy Grail War, sacrificing everything for the single overriding purpose that her family had clung to for a thousand years, had accepted her doom a long time ago. She knew that path well, how it would go, where it would lead, and there was a certain comfort in knowing – and yet a different path had been offered to her.

A path she'd never dreamed existed. A path which offered her _life_.

But only at the cost of leaving everything she knew behind and stepping into an uncertain, alien world, where she had no idea how to function at all. After all, while nominally part of the Association, it was well-known that the Alchemists of Atlas were… _different_ in their aims and goals, with their overriding goal being the prevention of the end of the world.

A goal far different from the aims of her family.

He, on the other hand, was but a practitioner of witchcraft, a boy who had been born with no circuits and had never had any hope of becoming his family's heir. The way he sought, the way he longed for, had been closed to him ever since he was born, no matter how desperately he tried to convince himself that maybe, if he kept trying and trying, then one day…

But it was not to be, given the presence of his _sister,_ the one who embodied all of his hurts and disappointments, who simply by existing denied him his purpose for being.

…until he was offered a path all his own, offered the hope of becoming s _omeone_ , of being seen as special and worthy – not condemned to a meaningless existence as a discarded heir. A hope he had clung to like a drowning man clung to a piece of driftwood in a storm, paddling frantically towards shore, because the alternative was to simply _stop._

To give up. To become part of the faceless multitude, those extras whose appearances on the stage of the world were short-lived and never remembered, replaceable, disposable, _worthless._

That he would not accept. Because if he accepted it, Matou Shinji would be destroyed, with only a powerless corpse left behind to wear his face.

And so he walked on, through trial and tribulation, to prove himself one worthy of standing beside Sion Eltnam Atlasia – the woman who had given him a new purpose, a new meaning in life. A goal that he might reach if he kept forging ahead, no matter the danger, no matter the challenge, for even death would be preferable to some mediocre life.

The one standing on the precipice, afraid to jump. The one who had jumped long ago, without ever looking back.

Both moving together as one, in a moment in time.

In the penthouse below them, a Game Boy lay abandoned on the rumpled sheets of a palatial canopy bed, the screen frozen on a scene from _The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening_ , showing the shipwrecked Hero of Hyrule washed up on the beach of Koholint Island.

Beside the bed was a platter with a few golden brown p _ommes soufflées_ left carelessly behind, the remains of their midday meal: a fine dining twist on the usual burgers and fries, a humble dish with a surprisingly colorful – and lengthy – history.

Most would think of this as an iconic American dish, after all, invented near the turn of the 20th century by one street vendor or another, but like many things, including apple pie, its origins were far more rich, given that the meat patties that gave hamburgers their name had originated with the Golden Horde, whose soldiers often wrapped a few slices of meat under their saddles so it would crumble under the pressure and motion of a long ride – and be cooked by heat and friction besides. This had become steak tartare, a recipe for which was brought to the German port of Hamburg by Russian ships, from which was born beef in the Hamburg style, with the modern hamburger patty being a derivative made from ground meat, as opposed to mince.

Their midday meal had been a bit of a throwback in that sense, with their version American classic made with ground sirloin, stuffed with braised short ribs, black truffle and foie gras, and accented with a hint of cumin mayo, with the resultantly juicy mixture served on a toasted parmesan bun for a sandwich that almost _melted_ in one's mouth. Accompanying that, of course, had been a side of golden brown _pommes soufflées_ – with each slice of fried potato puffing into smooth, balloon-like cylinders, with one side having a thin strip of white potato "meat" – like the frites one might be used to, while the other was crisp and thin as a chip. Complemented with a Béarnaise dipping sauce, a mixture of butter, lemon, and egg yolk with the flavor of tarragon, they seemed to be the highest form that a fried potato could aspire to take.

At least the food had cheered Ilya up a little bit, given that she'd seemed rather sullen and moody most of the morning, part of which Shinji had blamed himself for. She'd called him in the morning, after all, frustrated that she couldn't get the Game Boy he'd given her to show anything on the screen.

…whereupon he'd cursed himself for his idiocy, as he remembered that he'd forgotten to buy _batteries_ for the device, and without those, a handheld console simply wouldn't have worked.

He'd promised he'd be right over, and had tasked Jeeves with picking up a large box full of AA batteries before conveying him – and his formalwear – to Illyasviel's hotel.

Frankly, the boy had thought he'd been prepared for anything, given that his house – and his private suite of rooms particularly – had been designed as the very height of luxury (as it should be, as he'd paid a pretty penny for it!), but when he'd walked into the Einzbern girl's penthouse, well…

…his dwelling had seemed _ordinary_ , almost inadequate in comparison.

For outside of their castle, even the least of the Einzbern dwelled among splendor, with this being no exception. Her suite was simply palatial, with an expanse of living space spread across two floors, a grand marble and glass staircase connecting them, bathrooms of honey onyx, a private spa, hidden, den, study, and more.

The walls were paneled with mirrors, the shelves lined with leather, the floors and furniture gleaming with ebon sophistication and refined elegance, offering panoramic views and surroundings suffused with natural light.

And within this expensive space, _she'd_ waited, Game Boy in hand, seeming almost vulnerable in the morning light.

"You came," she'd said, her crimson eyes looking at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Shinji had asked, though his smile had faded as he took note of the girl's fragile expression. "Ilya…" he'd whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just fix it!" she'd demanded, thrusting a grey brick of plastic towards him.

When he'd taken it from her, she'd led him up the spiral stairs to what he assumed had to be her bedroom, where he'd blinked at the sight of London across the water.

Quite a view, really, but he'd had a job to do – and so he'd done it, placing batteries into the Game Boy and placing one of the nearby cartridges in the machine: _Super Mario Land._

When the first notes of musicissued from the device, the Einzbern had all but snatched the Game Boy from his hands and flopped down onto the bed, indicating that he should join her. With a sigh, Shinji had proceeded to do so, idly thinking to himself that this would be the first time he shared a bed with anyone aside from Luna.

Ilya had proceeded to try out the game, though she'd asked all sorts of questions along the way. For instance, who was the jumping man (Mario, an Italian Plumber) and why was he dressed so funny (because that was how Shigeru Miyamoto designed him)?

She's also asked things like why things died when Mario jumped on them, how he went down pipes into caverns, and why Mario got bigger when he ate a mushroom. Was he a magus? Was the plant the trigger he needed to activate reinforcement magic? And if that was so, did it mean that he used jumping as his general trigger for prana release?

Shinji had found the dizzying array of questions more than a bit distracting, so when the girl beat a stage or two – and saved, he had switched to _Tetris,_ the game of falling blocks that needed little explanation, though the conversation had been a bit more suggestive, perhaps.

"Just put it in," Shinji had said, noticing a descending L-block coming down from the top of the screen.

"There's no way that will fit," Illya had replied, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers furiously mashed the buttons to twist the block about, her body wriggling on the bed from excitement.

"Sure it will," Shinji had answered, putting his hands over hers in an effort to guide the offending piece in. "Just like… _that!"_

"Noooooooooooo!" Ilya had cried out as the piece plunged down—and was stopped partway by a stack of blocks on the right. "You can't just jam it in!"

And then with a beep, a row of blocks vanished, with those above it falling down a level.

"…well, ok, maybe it doesn't have to be a perfect fit," she'd grumbled, her cheeks flushed red as she pouted. "Stupid Shinji. It's terrible of you to embarrass a girl."

They played that game for a bit longer, before Ilya's stomach had intervened with an audible gurgle, distracting her enough that she'd made an ill-thought decision or three and soon ended with a GAME OVER screen.

"…I don't want to play anymore," Ilya had huffed, staring daggers at the block letters as if they'd mortally offended her.

"Ilya…maybe we should take a break then," the boy had said in an attempt to placate the irate homunculus. He'd heard tales of the legendary amounts of abuse Nintendo devices could endure, but he didn't really want to see the girl test their limits, since she _was_ quite powerful. "What do you want to eat? We can go to a nice restaurant or something."

"Just tell the butler to bring something up." The homunculus' muttering had seemed dark and ill-amused. "I don't really feel like going anywhere."

It had dawned on Shinji that what was bothering Ilya was undoubtedly worse than just being bored, but that she wasn't about to let him in on it. And he realized that he didn't like seeing her upset – not just because it might bode ill for him, but such an innocent girl shouldn't have to worry about so many things just because of who she was.

Thinking back to the day they'd spent together, the boy remembered that the Einzbern girl had liked simple, ordinary things. Things like doughnuts and cream puffs and other street food. So, hoping she'd like something simple and fast to eat over a three-course meal or such, he'd called down and asked for burgers and chips.

And his hunch had paid off, at least insofar as Ilya had seemed just a little bit happier as she'd bitten into the burger, though it was cute how she denied she liked it at all even as she stuffed her cheeks, with daubs of mayonnaise getting smeared all around her mouth as she chomped away.

' _No matter how the other Einzbern are, I suppose I can't lump her in with them. Ilya is just Ilya.'_

So he'd thought as he'd wiped her mouth with a napkin, with the girl flushing and turning away at the perhaps overly familiar contact.

"What was that for?" she'd asked.

"Your hair is beautiful," Shinji had answered matter-of-factly. "And seeing it dirtied in front of me would be painful."

Ilya had just stared at him in silence, her eyes wide with shock and wonder as he finished his ministrations.

"Makiri…you…" she'd begun, but hadn't been able to say anything more, and Shinji, rather wisely, had not pressed. Afterwards, they'd settled in for a bit more _Tetris_ , which had been pleasant enough, but soon she'd begun to show some signs of fatigue and irritation again as she came to another Game Over screen.

Shinji, seeing this, had suggested they move onto _The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening,_ but after the first cutscene, showing the shipwrecked Link, Ilya had just set the console down, almost seeming like she wanted to cry.

"Ilya, are you—"

"Makiri. I want to dance," she'd said abruptly. Without another word, the girl had gotten to her feet and held out her hand.

And Shinji had followed suit, taking her hand and letting her lead him up the stairs to the rooftop terrace, with the two of them looking down upon the city of London far away and in the distance.

"Then by all means, let us dance," he'd said warmly, as faint music began playing in the background, and as if heeding an ancient rhythm all their own, their bodies swayed and moved and flowed.

* * *

In the plains which stretched far afield from Ottery St Catchpole, Tohsaka Rin walked with Luna Lovegood towards the imposing edifice of a jet black tower rising from the top of a prominent hill, dominating all in its environs.

'… _Matou's house was certainly impressive, but this is no less so.'_

Certainly both were more aesthetically pleasing than the Burrow, the place they'd come to after passing through the fire. Home to the Weasleys, or so she thought the name had been, stepping out of the fire into it had served as a rather rude awakening to the countryside, given its relative simplicity. After all, Tohsaka Rin liked to think of herself as a city-dweller, even if Fuyuki hadn't been the biggest of cities, and her house had been a well-appointed mansion – which this most certainly was not.

Certainly one could call the interior cozy and lived-in, if one was being charitable, though one could also call it a living work of modern art if one was less inclined to be so. One thing was certain – it was cluttered and messy, with the windows were a patchwork of glass from different buildings, the flagstone floors worn dull, and mix and matched pieces of carpeting that made it obvious it had all been put together over time, built out of whatever its creators could salvage from second hand shops, swap meets, or the curbside.

Even the furniture, the crockery, the appliances and more were obviously second-hand, with all of it having been picked up piecemeal from wherever useful items could be found as the house expanded.

Still, Tohsaka Rin had not had long to look around before she – and Luna, who had appeared behind her, holding a bonsai tree, with a fox perched on each shoulder – were accosted by a number of curious redheads, a rather matronly lady who Luna introduced as Mrs. Weasley, a rather lanky teenager with horn-rimmed glasses who answered to the name Percy, a boy about her and Matou's age who seemed to dislike being called Ronald, and a petite girl named Ginny.

"Are you and your father coming over for dinner tonight, Luna?" Mrs. Weasley had asked with a kindly smile. "With Arthur and the twins staying at Hogwarts for the Holidays, there's plenty of room at the table."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline," Luna had responded pleasantly. "I already have a guest for Christmas, and she's not used to large gatherings."

"Oh?" Molly had inquired, her eyes alighted on the figure of the Japanese magus standing beside Luna, a young girl dressed in a cream-colored sweater, long black skirt, stylish black boots, and a lovely red coat. "And who might you be?"

"I am…Tohsaka Rin," the Second Owner of Fuyuki had said with a bow, taking particular care to pronounce her words clearly.

"Blimey! Why does she have such a strange accent?" Rin didn't know who had spoken – the boy named Ronald, perhaps? – but she flushed at the remark, looking at the ground in embarrassment.

"Ron, that's rude!" To her surprise, another voice had spoken up, this time in her defense, or at least against whoever had asked the question. The speaker, the redheaded girl named Ginny had proceeded to thoroughly chastising her brother, before looking curiously up at Rin herself. "Besides, it's clear she's not from around here."

Ron had mumbled something to the effect of "I was just wondering why she doesn't speak English like everyone else does," when Percy cut him off with a cough.

"That's enough, Ronald. You're just digging the hole deeper," the eldest present Weasley child had sighed, fighting the urge to cradle his forehead in his hands. "As for you, Miss Tohsaka. I say, you're Japanese, aren't you?"

"Y-yes," Rin had replied, bowing yet again.

"She's from Matou's hometown, actually." Luna's comment had drawn the attention of everyone in the room, with the Weasley matriarch looking at her in surprise. "He asked me to look after her."

"Why isn't he showing her around himself?" Ginny had found herself asking, curious why Matou wasn't there. "And why you?" Why not, for example, the Head Boy, Robert Hillard? Or Hermione Granger, who was widely thought to be his lover? Unless…

Luna's response had been short and to the point.

"Matou had something to take care of for his Master, and he thought I'd be the best choice, since I've been to Japan."

"Huh. That makes sense," Ginny had conceded. That was certainly a more logical explanation than the silly drama that had been playing out in her head about Luna stealing Matou from Hermione or some such. Though it was then that the girl's train of thought had been derailed by the sight of the foxes on Luna's shoulders– both Pandora and Zelkova. "And you have his familiar, too?"

"Familiars should be able to enjoy Christmas too, shouldn't they?" The blonde had asked with a dreamy smile, with the Weasleys forced to agree. "Besides, he's used to me, since we got them together."

"Oh?" Ginny had commented, but before she could say anything else, Ron had cut in.

"Well, ok, but what about the tree, L-Lovegood?" The boy was being quite careful not to call the younger girl loony, since well, Matou had saved from that giant spider, and it was very well known that the boy from the east was rather fond of the younger Ravenclaw, whatever the exact nature of their relationship. "Some new kind of vegetable for your garden?"

The black fox on Luna's shoulder had seemed to glare at him, as Ron blinked.

"Oi! What's the matter with you? Was it something I said?"

While the boy wasn't ill-intentioned, it happened that sometimes, his mouth outran his brain, and when that happened, he tended to annoy people. Some might call it a charm point, but others – not as much.

"Oh Ronald." With a long suffering sigh, Ginny had rapped her brother on the head with her knuckles, making the boy rub his head gingerly. "And no, that's not a vegetable. Matou brought that tree with him from Japan. Speaking of which, Luna, I'd like to hear the story about how you two got your familiars one of these days."

"You could always ask the Twins."

"Hm, but you were there, they weren't."

"True. One of these days then. For now, I have a guest to take home."

"Are you sure you don't want come over tonight? Your father and your guest would be welcome."

The Weasleys didn't have much, but Molly was certainly the type to be generous with what she had.

"I'm sure, but thank you for the offer, Mrs. Weasley," Luna had said with a curtsey, with Rin following suit.

As they said their goodbyes and left the house, Rin's eyes had boggled at the sight of the stuffed troll – that was, a troll that had been slain and stuffed, not a toy that looked like a troll – standing over four meters tall, its ugly visage quite terrifying to behold, especially with its massive club still in hand.

"What. Is. That."

"Oh, that's a stuffed mountain troll," had been the response. "Matou and some others slew one just like it in first year."

And so they'd set out across the fields, with Rin looking back at the Burrow to see if the exterior matched the interior. Sure enough it did, being obviously the product of architectural salvage even from a distance, with a cobbled together sort of look that made it apparent that it was only able to remain standing through magical means.

Back in the present, though, Rin had gone over the conversation from earlier and had some questions.

"Yu…have ben to Japan?" she asked, curious as the history of this girl who was Matou's training partner.

"If you want, you can speak in Japanese, you know," Luna replied matter-of-factly, looking at her magus companion with a smile. "Pandora can translate for me."

Tohsaka blinked.

"Pan-dora?"

"My familiar."

' _Right. Her fox is from Japan, which makes it a_ kitsune _…'_

And _kitsune_ of course, had all sorts of abilities, including the ability to comprehend human speech, though she noted that the blonde girl's familiar had only one tail, which meant it wasn't quite one century old.

"Thank you," Rin said – in Japanese, feeling a sense of relief that she could finally speak her native tongue again. "Your fox…can it shapeshift?"

If both this girl and Matou had powerful spirits like that…

"Not yet," Luna admitted – in English. "She's still a bit young for that, but in a few years."

"Mm," the magus noted. "What about Matou's? How can his shapeshift then?"

"Zelkova isn't a _kitsune,_ " the blonde noted, hefting the tree in her hands.

"… _kodama_ ," Rin whispered, eyes wide with realization. "Then…that other fox must be its spiritual body."

Which had interesting implications, especially since Zelkova had acted as Matou's butler last night, casually demonstrating an ability to shift between both spirit and material states. That was…quite powerful, indeed, and the very fact that Lovegood didn't seem to mind sharing meant that knowledge of what they could do wouldn't matter if it came to a confrontation.

"Are you interested in getting one yourself?" Luna remarked.

Rin said nothing, shaking her head. She had amethyst owls she could animate and use as familiars if absolutely necessary, but those were expensive, and she wasn't about to admit that she didn't have any idea how to go about binding a nature spirit.

Perhaps she could steer the conversation back to something safer.

' _Maybe the tower in the distance…'_

In appearance, it quite resembled a stereotypical wizard's tower, the sort one might see on the covers of fantasy novels and faery tales, and there was something about the symbolism of a tower that was still fraught with meaning – else the Association would not name their headquarters the Clock Tower, despite it being housed in the British Museum.

"It's an interesting looking house, isn't it?" Luna asked, seeming to anticipate what was on her mind. "Dad wanted to build something like Orthanc, but mother said no. A bit too much, that?"

"Orthanc?" Rin repeated, wondering if she'd heard properly, as that didn't sound like English.

" _A tower of marvelous shape, fashioned by the builders of old,"_ Luna quoted, her expression distant as she looked at the dark tower. "… _a thing not made by the craft of Men, but riven from the bones of the earth in the ancient torment of the hills. A peak and isle of rock it was, black and gleaming hard._ Or so Tolkien described it in _The Lord of the Rings_. _"_

"Ah. Fiction."

"Life imitates art, art imitates life," Luna commented, with Rin raising a thoughtful eyebrow at the observation. She could hardly disagree, after all, since her family was one of the three which had created a ritual to summon a Holy Grail…

It took a bit more walking before they reached the base of the hill, and a bit of tricky footwork as they hopped across a series of stones to cross the stream, but soon enough, they had arrived at the broken down front gate, with signs tacked to it that said "Editor of the Quibbler."

"What's the Quiv-ler?" Rin asked, stumbling over the pronunciation of the last word, as Bs and Vs in Japan were often interchangeable in pronunciation, much like Ls and Rs.

"Oh, a tabloid Dad publishes for those of our side of the world," Luna replied. "It talks about things the official publications often won't."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well, like the werewolf armies moving in the Europe, or the ongoing threat of the Templars," the girl answered simply. "Everything this side of the Veil, I suppose."

"Templars, you say?" Rin echoed. "Do you mean the Church?"

"No, they're another group," the young witch noted. "Mind the Snargaluff. It attacks if you come too close to it."

"Snargaluff?" the magus repeated, with Luna pointing at what looked like a gnarled stump.

"Part of the defenses we keep," Luna commented. "We used to have Venomous Tentacula when mother was around too, but not anymore. Dad decided to grow Dirigible Plums instead."

' _Huh. Not a bounded field but nature based defenses, and a familiar that is a nature spirit. Is this girl…a druid?'_

Then again, from what she knew, druids didn't live in great towers of stone.

…though most, she conceded, also wouldn't paint the inside of their towers in bright primary colors with flowers, insects, and birds possibly all painted by Luna, blurring the boundary between within and without.

' _Matou certainly has an interesting friend.'_

"Dad, I brought home a guest!" Luna called, as a strange looking man shuffled down the stairs – an eccentric slightly cross-eyed man with shoulder-length white hair the texture of candyfloss, who wore a pure white outfit, with an odd symbol, rather like a triangular eye, glistening from a golden chain around his neck.

"Oh, who is it?" Xenophilius asked, seeming almost excited. "Is Matou coming over for Christmas dinner, then?"

Rin blinked.

'… _they're close enough that they expect Matou to come over for Christmas?'_

"No, Dad. I'd like you to meet Matou's childhood friend, Tohsaka Rin," Luna said by way of introduction.

"My, what a pretty girl," the man replied, giving Rin a once over. "Xenophilius is the name, Editor of the _Quibbler_. Would you like to see my workshop?"

Rin blinked again. He didn't mean his magical workshop…did he?

"Come along, come along," Xenophilius continued, heading upstairs again. "Let me show you my printing press."

The two girls followed him into a somewhat cluttered chamber, almost labyrinthine from the piles of books and papers covering every surface. Rin was mildly impressed by the delicately made models of creatures hanging from the ceiling, with some finely articulated and capable of flapping their wings, or snapping their jaws.

One of them was even—

"Is that…a Ki-lin?" Rin asked, pointing at a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"I'm told they do call it that in the East," the man said. "In fact, Matou pointed that out to my daughter last year too. Good lad that."

For Tohsaka Rin, the evening passed quietly, but interestingly as she listened to the stories of the strange man, with Luna regaling her with the tale of her and Matou's quest to obtain familiars, with a short pause for a simple, but filling meal of pasta, cream of mushroom soup, peas, and roast chicken – all prepared by the blonde.

In the end though, after Xenophilius had gone to sleep, Rin found herself standing on the flat roof of the tower-like house, looking out at the plains receding from the house all drenched in moonlight. Away from the city, from the buzz of people, from everything, it was peaceful.

"It's a nice view up here," a voice came from behind her, with Rin turning to see Luna there. "Far above the chaos of the world below. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Sometimes."

"It's strange to be up so high, with the world below so small. But then, the world is strange. Common sense isn't very common, really."

Rin chuckled at that.

"People…don't make sense," the magus managed, shaking her head. She'd often thought it, but it was only after coming to Britain that the point really struck home.

"Oh, I won't argue with that. I perfectly agree."

* * *

It was not often that Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Wizard Marshal and Master of the Second Magic, attended events at the Clock Tower, despite always being on the guest list – which to be fair was mostly a formality, as one did not want to deal with an affronted Magician. To be frank, he saw little purpose in the many meetings, galas, and other affairs of the Association, as the people involved were mostly short sighted and petty, determined to gain some small advantage or other – something that he was quite above.

And of course, whenever he showed up, it caused a stir.

…much as it did tonight, with people murmuring that both the Second and Fifth Magicians were present – and that they'd even showed up together, which of course had been planned by the Wizard Marshal. The Magic Gunner's temper was quite well known, after all, so her presence alone tended to deter any flatterers, toadies or inebriates.

"So, your sister's apprentice offered to pay her debt?" Zelretch asked, easily distinguished from the others in the crowd by his formal robes of black and silver, his red eyes looking curiously out at the others present. "How unusual. I had not expected her to take one. "

"I didn't either, quite frankly, but she hasn't ruined him yet, at least," Aoko retorted, tossing her hair, a movement that attracted its own share of attention. It was not often that the Magic Gunner showed up to these events either, and one hardly ever saw her in anything aside from jeans and some variety of t-shirt. Yet tonight she was dressed in a lovely blue ball gown the color of the twilit sky, with her hair elegantly coiffed, though any would-be suitors were quite cowed by the threat of her displeasure alone.

"Unlike me and mine, you mean?" the Wizard Marshal rumbled, his chuckle a low and almost dangerous sound.

"Well, yeah," Aoko said, taking full advantage of the fact that she was one of the few people in the world who could be so blunt to the Old Man of the Jewels and get away with it. "I _am_ surprised you came, even if I asked you to."

"Now now, Blue. Would I turn down a beautiful woman's request?" the Second Magician inquired, the corners of his lips curving into a smirk.

The response came without any hesitation at all.

"Yes, you would. You've done it before, quite a few times by my count." Aoko crossed her arms and glanced at the Marshal out of the corner of her eye. "Which makes me wonder what made this time any different."

Zelretch chortled at the accusation – for what could he say? It was true enough, after all.

Being perfectly honest, the request from his fellow Magician had been one factor in his decision to attend, but not the only one – and certainly not the largest. Indeed, one – or two of them – rather, were walking through the door now, with a hush falling over the other attendees as they entered.

' _Makiri and Einzbern…'_

The young boy in traditional white-tie attire, with wavy hair so black it was almost blue in the light would be unremarkable in and of himself, save for the open secret of who had invited him. His _companion_ though, was a homunculus of the Einzbern, wearing a gown as dazzling as it was provocative: a white dress woven of gold, fitted with seven rings like those that were said to have control over creation and the soul, accentuated by a red stole with golden etchings that brought out her crimson eyes.

"Is it strange, Makiri?" the young homunculus murmured to her companion, noting how everyone was looking at her.

"N-no," Shinji answered, when he found his voice again, squeezing his partner's hand. "Not at all. Everyone is just struck by how beautiful you look. Shall we go?"

In the distance, Zelretch looked on at the unlikely couple, a pair which reminded him strongly of their ancestors from six generations ago – two Archmagi who he had considered passing his Jeweled Sword to, though in the end he'd chosen to pass it to the unremarkable Tohsaka Nagato instead, since the Makiri and Einzbern were fundamentally evil.

At least at the time.

' _Makiri Zolgen and Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern.'_

Their descendants could have passed for them almost exactly, and he would know, as he'd been well acquainted with them. He'd overseen the creation of the Fuyuki Holy Grail, after all, with Zolgen and Justeaze devising the critical parts of the system – and the latter sacrificing herself to become the centerpiece of the Great Grail.

He knew of their dream – their desire to creating a utopia where all hatred and suffering were gone, surpassing the limits of humanity by materializing the soul itself and advancing human society.

They had failed, as humans invariably did, and so families who had once been the closest of allies had become mortal foes.

…until now, it seemed.

"Perhaps history repeats itself," the Wizard Marshal noted. "Six generations ago, a son of Makiri and a daughter of Einzbern were joined by ties of magic and emotion. Six generations later, what once was, will be again. Perhaps."

It has been six generations, and yet once more a son of the Makiri and a daughter of the Einzbern are joined in friendship."

"Ugh…let's not talk about time travel and temporal mechanics tonight, old man," Aoko groused, given that her own Magic dealt with such a domain, among others. "Unless you have a good reason, of course."

"I might, at that," Zelretch replied, but offered no more, as he noted how Lord El-Melloi II was staring at the Makiri and Einzbern with undisguised shock.

'… _as well he might. Jubstacheit no doubt knew exactly what he was doing when he gave the homunculus that dress.'_

"It has to do with how you seem…more youthful, doesn't it?" the Magic Gunner inquired, eyes sharp as she regarded the old sorcerer. "You do seem have lost a few decades."

"Indeed," the Second Magician acknowledged, though he did not deign to volunteer anything further.

Such was the least he could do for Director of Atlas, who, shortly after her ascension, had requested a private meeting with the sorcerer, inviting the man to visit her at Atlas itself. Intrigued, he had accepted her invitation, where she had revealed to him the reason for her promotion to Director: the fact that she could create the Philosopher's Stone.

And with it, the Water of Life – the greatest secret of Atlas, able to heal all pains, to cure all plagues, to reverse even death.

Compared to that, reversing the damage done to his body during his infamous encounter with Crimson Moon Brunestud, which had aged him considerably and diminished his powers to the point where he could no longer use his Magic to the full extent of its potential – was a trivial matter.

" _And what would you ask in return?"_ he'd asked after a time of silence. Although mighty still, he had lost much of his original strength. To regain all of that, to have all of that as a possibility before him…the temptation was absolute.

" _Simply to act as a witness to Atlas' actions."_

That had been all.

The new Director had not asked for his support, his aid, or any such. Just to serve as a witness to Atlas' actions – and to the legitimacy of the new Director – much as he had once witnessed the births, deaths, and coming of age of princes and princesses, whether human, fey, or True Ancestor.

" _And what is it you desire, Atlasia?"_

" _The destruction of TATARI,"_ she'd answered at the time, though there had been something more in her eyes, something all too human to be expected of an Alchemist. _"And the preservation of the world. Both of which are benefited by curing you."_

" _You don't believe I will use my newfound power to seek dominion over all the world instead?"_ he'd joked, only to receive a glare from the young girl. Privately he was impressed. Not many people dared to stand up to him so.

" _You and I both know that you will not do such a thing,'_ the Director had noted coolly. _"You are an ally of humanity after all, and as a magician know that the world is far more interesting when things play out on their own terms."_

 _"Hm. True. You desire a witness? Then a witness I will become,"_ Zelretch had said, accepting the terms. The conflict this would no doubt strike in the Association itself would be interesting enough to watch as it was.

He thought – wasn't sure – but thought he might have seen a smile on the Director's lips as he agreed to her request, but if it was there, it was gone in a moment.

And so he stood here today, a fire in his eyes that had not been there since his defeat of the Crimson Moon, the fatigue of many centuries washed away by the Water of Life, looking upon a boy and a girl who could have stepped out of his memories.

Part of him wondered why they been invited to this event, and if it was at all related to the work of the little known Chaldea Security Organization, a collaboration between Atlas and the powerful Animusphere family, one of the Twelve Noble Families of Lords that ruled over the Tower, a secret group including researchers from every field, both magical and mundane, with the goal of extending the reign of human history, above all else.

And he had heard – rumor had it anyway, that they were working on a system by which heroic spirits might be summoned into the world.

"Curiouser and curiouser," he murmured, especially as he saw the Director of Atlas herself greet the duo, cementing their importance in the minds of others.

"So you do find them interesting then, Old Man?" Aoko ribbed, accepting a bruschetta from a passing waiter.

"Indeed. They remind me of a couple I once knew," Zelretch admitted. "And since our gracious host has taken it upon herself to greet them, shall we do the same?"

Aoko chuckled throatily.

"Well, I'm game if you are, Old Man."

* * *

Far away from the Museum – and from London besides – Aozaki Touko and Severus Snape had Christmas dinner at the Kweilin, the finest Chinese restaurant in all of Edinburgh. It was a rather noisy venue, but then, all the better, as the noise kept their conversation private without the need for any particular spells of concealment or such.

"Your…apprentice is a top candidate for the Hogwarts Potions Champion," Snape admitted as he cut off pieces of the 'Eight Treasure' braised duck in the middle of the table, revealing some dried shrimps and scallops. "Whatever other qualities he may lack, he is…competent in defense."

"My apprentice is all well and good, Severus, but what about yourself?" Touko had asked. "I'm not having Christmas dinner with him, but you, after all."

"What about myself?" the man asked gruffly. "I teach."

Though it wouldn't be for much longer, he knew.

"You and I both know you're not the type," the puppetmaster noted, ladling some beef chow fun onto her own plate. "You don't have the patience for it."

"So my students tell me," Snape said dryly. For a few moments, he debated whether or not to share with the admittedly intriguing woman of the east some of his plans, and came to the conclusion that it really couldn't hurt. She didn't seem to have too many ghosts trailing her, after all. "But at Hogwarts I will remain, at least until the year's end."

"Oh?"

"There is the matter of the combined classes I instruct, and overseeing the appointment of a Champion after all," he drawled, shaking his head. "If I didn't have to deal with so many dunderheads."

"Severus, you teach teenagers. What did you expect?"

The man's lips tightened, but he otherwise did not acknowledge the point.

"Not for much longer," he allowed himself to say. "In the coming year, I may have other duties to attend to. Unfortunately, I do not believe I will able to join you at the Competition next year, should you be escorting your school's delegation."

"Is that so?" Touko asked. "And what might drive you from that?"

"Duty," came the curt reply.

"Duty, Severus? Duty to what?" the redhead questioned. "To Britain?"

"…to what is right."

"And to fix the mistakes you once made."

Severus Snape looked up at Aozaki Touko with a wary expression.

"You…what do you know?"

"The world is but a garden of sinners, Severus. But there is no sin from which there is no redemption," the woman answered, her lips curving into a cruel smirk. "Except for calling me a dirty red."

"…and what would happen if one did?"

"Then you die."

The response was instant, flat, and utterly devoid of emotion, with Severus Snape having no doubt that Aozaki Touko would make good on her word.

"Well, in the interests of preventing that, shall we instead see a play?" the man drawled. "You did seem to enjoy _Phantom of the Opera_."

"Only because your demeanor seemed like the Phantom himself, and it was amusing to see you sneering at Raoul," Touko snarked, with Snape letting out a sigh. "But alright. What will it be today?"

"… _A Christmas Carol."_

"A fair choice. But I can't help but wonder, Severus, is this a play meant more for me…or for you?"


	30. Terror of Death

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 30.** _Terror of Death_

Before him, the world _burned_.

What had once been a place of revelry had been changed into a killing field, with beasts of flame surging across the ground faster than a man could run, their fangs and tongues and gaping maws devouring all in their path.

The metallic scent of fresh-spilled blood blended with putrid odor of charred flesh, the smell of death so thick and rich he could almost taste it.

Blood and death. Blood and shadow. Blood and fear.

Wails rang out in the distance, interspersed with the _crack-crack-crack_ of spellfire, but this feeble resistance was soon cut short, wails replaced with the sound of frenzied wolves howling to the moon above.

' _How could this have happened?'_

Only he knew full well how it must have played out, as he surveyed the scene of slaughter with weary eyes, his robes protecting him from the worst of the heat.

His vision tracked a multitude – a disorganized band – trying to flee towards the safety of the woods, only to stumble to a panicked halt as massive evil-shaped forms strode from them, swinging uprooted trees like makeshift clubs.

' _Giants…'_

The most feared and savage creatures in all of Magical Europe, standing over 8 meters tall, and possessed of enormous strength, with their potential for – their insatiable appetite for – violence driving them to kill. Thankfully for those who faced them, giants could not use magic, but that was small consolation when magic was of little use against them.

A single wizard could not hope to best a giant in a confrontation that was even remotely close to being fair. Neither could a handful, or a dozen.

No. To beat a giant and overcome its magic resistance, one would need a full score of highly trained wizards casting simultaneously.

' _Or a single, fortunate soul bearing naked steel.'_

With a grim smile, he cleared his mind of distractions, focusing intently on the space between the survivors and the giants, seeking to _step_ across the distance.

But he failed, with his intent thwarted by a construct of magic he could feel on the edge of his senses.

' _Anti-Disapparition Jinx,'_ he thought with disgust.

'Twas no wonder then, that people were fleeing on foot. Without the ability to Apparate, without brooms, without any sort of magical conveyance, they were reduced to the oldest mode of transportation known to humanity as they sought to escape to the safety of the as yet unburned woods, desperately seeking to get out of the Jinx's area of effect and flee – only for giants to emerge from them, as if deliberately placed beforehand as part of a cruel, cruel trap.

He could see a few, tiny red-robed figures take point, beams of red and blue and green crackling from their wands – and shattering on the giants' flesh – as they sought to distract the giants and allow the others to escape.

And so he _ran,_ pushing his body to its limit as he sought to reach the knot of people before the inevitable happened – before the few, brave souls who had interposed themselves between the survivors and certain death were batted away.

With a sickening _crunch_ , one was smashed into the ground, his torso torn clean through by the force of the blow.

Focusing on the flow of magic through his body, he forced himself to go faster, his feet pounding the ground, as legs – and lungs – and heart – all cried out for mercy, for him to _stop_.

But he could not – would not – as another Auror's head was crushed by a deadly blow.

' _Nearly there…'_

Pouring every scrap of energy he could muster into his legs, he arrived just as the last defender fell, his arms blurring as he sent a trio of jet-black daggers towards the hulking creatures before him, projectiles which broke through their guard and embedded themselves in the throat of the first giant – the one who had slain the others.

And for the first time, the hulking creature stumbled, twisting about as its mad eyes fixed on the one who had dared to injure it, its feet carrying it towards the lone assassin as it gurgled, convulsed…and fell to the ground with a tremendous _crash._

For a brief instant, both the giants – and the band of survivors – were frozen in shock.

"What are you waiting for?" he barked out, a flick of his wrists freeing his _disillusioned_ hidden blades. "Fly, you fools!" The order was enough, as the survivors ran, with the fallen giant's comrades focusing not on them, but on _him_ – the one who had dared slay their leader. Seeing this, he grinned, his lips drawing back in a ferocious smile. " _Fee-fi-fo-fum_ , was it?" he asked coldly, taunting them. "Come at me, if you dare."

With a monstrous roar, they _charged_ , and with a cry of _**"Zabaniya!"**_ the battle was joined, under the cold light of the blue glass moon.

* * *

The first thing Shinji noticed as he was jolted from his dreams was a pair of curious crimson eyes looking curiously down at him, framed by an alabaster face and a curtain of silver hair. The second thing, of course, was that his body felt numb and unresponsive – that in fact, the more he tried to put power into his limbs, the more he stiffened.

"Huh, you're awake, Makiri." The red eyes pulled back, with Shinji recognizing the person straddling him as Illyasviel von Einzbern – albeit clad in a set of cute pink pajamas he didn't recognize – and from the silk canopy he could see above him, he wasn't at his manor, but on a bed at her penthouse. "I was wondering what would happen when I stopped the strange surge of magical energy going through your body."

As if a switch was flipped, the numbness receded from his limbs, though this was a bit of a mixed blessing, given that he could now feel the weight – and warmth – of Ilya astride his hips. Now, it wasn't the first time something like this had happened, given how his sparring sessions with Luna sometimes ended, but well – they weren't usually both in pajamas when that happened.

"H-hey, Ilya…" the boy began wanting to point out how this was just a bit inappropriate, but the girl interrupted him, putting a finger to her lips.

"You know, I was curious what kind of abilities you had," she murmured, her voice low and almost sensual. "After all, with no circuits, you shouldn't be able to use magecraft, right? But you felt really strange just now. Like you were empty, with your mind linked to somewhere else."

"Somewhere…else, you say?" Shinji repeated, his mouth dry as his heart hammered in his chest.

"Mhm," the girl confirmed, tilting her head curiously. "But magi who link themselves to somewhere else usually hide their original bodies in a safe place. Not in a girl's bed. That's why I thought it was strange."

Shinji blinked.

"Huh…so hypothetically speaking, if I was dreaming, what I saw might be something that was happening somewhere else?" he asked, curious as to whether this meant.

"Dreaming, were you?" Ilya replied, looking down at the boy beneath her with calculating eyes. "Then you weren't even thinking about transference. But then, you're not really a magus, so I guess maybe you don't have to."

"Ah…that's right. The Einzbern specialize in that, don't they?" he asked, recalling what he'd learned from the Matou library long, long ago.

"Mhm," Ilya said happily. "If there's an enemy we want to seal, we can nullify him by transferring his consciousness into a jewel or an immobile doll. Well, if he's helpless anyway."

"…a doll, huh?" the boy muttered. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought Touko had some skill with that as well, given her crafting of Tomas, among other things.

"Hm, your Master _would_ know about dolls, wouldn't she?" the homunculus noted with a considering look. Shinji was unsurprised that Ilya would be familiar with Aozaki Touko, especially after the Fifth Magician had introduced him to Zelretch as her "older sister's apprentice." "So what do you see?"

"Fire and blood and steel," Shinji whispered, shaking his head. "Not every night, but…"

"…and you're not doing it by choice, are you?" Ilya summed up, her face leaning down close to Shinji's without any regard for propriety, with the boy flushing from head to toe as she rubbed against him.

"…no," the Matou scion croaked, finding the sensations she was sending through him agony of the most exquisite sort. Pain he knew and was prepared for, but this… "I-Ilya. This is…"

And then she got off him, with his body becoming all the more aware of her from the sudden absence of her upon him.

"You're fun," she remarked, a sly smile tugging up at the corner of her lips. "Alright. I've made up my mind. You can take me shopping today too. If you do, I might tell you more."

"That…sounds fun," Shinji said, smiling slightly as he finally managed to sit up, noting that sure enough, this was indeed the Einzbern girl's penthouse. _'Well, I guess it won't be so bad to go shopping.'_ Even if there were lines and crowds, the sheer exuberance with which she approached the world was refreshing.

…and well, he could use a break from anything too strenuous, he supposed, since between cheering up Ilya, the gala, and his dreams, he was already worn out.

' _I guess I'll call Luna with my magic mirror and ask her to look after Rin today too.'_ It was rather amazing what useful things he'd found in the Room of Hidden Things. _'Hope she won't mind…'_

* * *

As it happened, Luna hadn't minded, with the blonde telling him how Rin had apparently enjoyed the quiet of the countryside – though she had once again repeated her…breakfast performance, much to Xenophilius' amusement.

Shinji had laughed at this, apologizing for any trouble Tohsaka might have caused her, though Luna had waved it off, saying it was no trouble at all.

"Dad likes visitors, but we don't get very many at our Dark Tower," Luna had mentioned, with Shinji raising an eyebrow at the term. "People seem intimidated by some reason."

"Oh? A Dark Tower?" Shinji had questioned, feeling a warm smile tug at the corners of his lips at the thought of his companion living in such a place. "I'll have to come visit sometime."

"Dad would be happy to have you over," Luna had replied, returning the smile with a dreamy one of her own. "So would I, really."

"Perhaps after the New Year, but before we go to Hogwarts then?" he'd asked, thinking that he was probably going to be busy until then, due to his Master promising to pay him a visit, among other things.

"Mm, I'd like that," the girl had murmured thoughtfully. "Shall I bring Tohsaka back to your house after dinner tonight?"

"Yes – and Zelkova as well, please," Shinji had replied, his mind flashing back to the dreams he had – and beginning to notice an interesting pattern. When Zelkova – or Luna – was close to him, he didn't have those odd dreams. Considered in terms of what Ilya had mentioned about his consciousness being linked elsewhere, perhaps they helped keep his consciousness anchored to his physical form while he slept?

'… _I'm going to have to ask Matsuo-san about this during the summer, if not earlier.'_ Given that the issue had started this summer, after Sajyou-san had first pummeled him with a yin-spell or two, but hadn't been as bad during the camping trip, he thought it might well have to do with his yin imbalance.

After calling Luna, he took a quick shower, changing into one of the provided robe once he emerged and wondering if he would need to drop by his manor to pick up a change of clothing, since didn't want to wear his casual outfit two days in a row, and evening wear was hardly appropriate for a day shopping.

He had half a mind to call Jeeves, save that he found his casual clothing from the day before sitting on the bed, having been freshly washed and folded, with Ilya – still in her pajamas – beside the garments, playing with a snow globe.

"Oh? My clothes are clean?"

"Of course, Makiri," the girl responded. "It's normal to have maids and butlers on call at all hours, isn't it?"

Shinji just sighed at this, as no, that wasn't what he was used to, but he didn't feel like getting into that at the moment.

"Ilya, would you mind stepping outside so I can change?" he asked the girl, who was swinging her legs back and forth in quite a carefree fashion, and seemed if she would be perfectly content to remain there and watch.

"Oh?" Ilya questioned in turn, putting a finger to her lips, her smile almost predatory – and devilishly out of place on an otherwise angelic face. "Are you embarrassed?"

"…maybe a little bit," he admitted, trying to think of a way to change the subject – and finding that there was one quite literally at hand. "Say, is that one of the keepsakes from yesterday?"

"Heh, this?" the girl asked, hefting the snowglobe in question – a commemorative gift from the gala which featured miniature versions of the two of them dancing together under a cherry tree. "I like this one better than the other one. Don't you?"

…the other one was…special, one might say, as it featured the couple standing together with the Second and Fifth Magicians, and the Director of Atlas.

"This one is certainly nice," Shinji agreed, though privately he preferred the other one, since it had Sion in it. He didn't think he'd be able to show it to anyone though, given that his Master would probably…disapprove of the way the Magic Gunner had her arms around his and Ilya's shoulders.

He'd just have to keep that one hidden, he supposed.

"I enjoyed the gala, more than I thought," Ilya reflected, shaking the globe as what looked like cherry blossoms scattered through the air. "It wasn't as stuffy as I thought. Though maybe that was because the Old Man kept other people away."

Shinji winced as he heard the Wizard Marshal referred to as simply the Old Man, but then, it wasn't as if Ilya had much of a sense of reverence for anyone or…anything, really. At least not when they weren't around, since she had been far more deferential to the Second Magician's face.

"…that might be so," he allowed, shaking his head ruefully. "Why don't you go and get changed? I'll buy you an ice cream, alright?"

Ilya had agreed at once, scurrying off to her room, leaving the boy to chuckle at how when all else failed, a bribe of delicious food seemed to work wonders – even against powerful magi and _youkai._

'… _I need to learn how to cook better. Maybe Luna can give me more pointers in the morning…'_

But that was a matter for later, as he changed, met with Ilya on the terrace, and together with the silver-haired girl, set out on a tour of London's shopping malls and department stores. In some stores, they looked about at things like Christmas cards and lights that were heavily discounted. In some stores, they found streamers, wrapping paper, and ornaments on sale – with Ilya seeming particularly struck by a treetopper in the shape of an angel.

In one store, she found herself enchanted by some of the holiday clothes, dragging Shinji over to the display until he caved and agreed to watch her try on various Santa dresses, complete with trimmings of soft, white fur and the obligatory red hat.

…he even ended up buying one for her, as she'd pouted and refused to change out of it – and he had to admit that Ilya did look rather cute in the getup, even if she attracted quite a bit of attention on the streets.

The most memorable purchase that day had come after they left the stores entirely, however. They'd wandered hand in hand into Trafalgar Square, with Ilya's expression full of delight as her eyes fell upon the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree.

A 60-year-old Norway spruce, standing over 20 meters tall, and adorned with 500 white lights, it was rather impressive – but then it was meant to be, given that it was a gift from the Norwegian people to the British, as a token of gratitude for their assistance during the Second World War.

"I want a tree," Ilya declared.

Shinji blinked, certain he hadn't heard that properly.

"What?"

But when the homunculus repeated herself, her words were exactly the same as before.

"I want a tree."

Knowing better than to simply refuse, Shinji had nodded, though he had no idea where to even begin looking for one in Central London – much less after Christmas itself, since most places stopped selling after Christmas Eve.

' _Huh. Jeeves might know.'_

And so he withdrew the mobile from his pocket and punched in the number for the chauffeur.

"Jeeves speaking. How may I help you, sir?" a voice came through from the other end.

"Jeeves," Shinji said, feeling a bit of relief. "I need a tree. A Christmas Tree."

"Ah…could you repeat that, sir? The mobile is not always clear, I'm afraid."

Was it just him, or did Jeeves' voice seem more than a little skeptical that he'd correctly.

"A Christmas tree."

"…how large, sir?"

Covering the headset with one hand, he turned to Ilya.

"How big of a tree did you want?" Shinji asked, privately hoping she wouldn't ask for anything too large, as he didn't know how he'd transport something the size of the Trafalgar tree.

"A small one will do. A meter or so?" Ilya murmured. "I'm not sure a bigger one will fit."

"About a meter and a half, Jeeves?" Shinji relayed, feeling that he was putting the other out a bit. "Sorry for all the trouble."

"Oh, not at all, sir. I will make arrangements. Would you like it delivered to your manor or to your young lady's penthouse?"

"The penthouse for now…if that's fine with you, Ilya?"

"Yeah!" the girl cheered, her vivacious attitude and her sheer exuberance getting more than her share of looks as she spun around in her Santa dress.

"It shall be done then. Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight, young master?"

Idly, it struck Shinji that it _was_ Boxing Day – or St. Stephan's Day – where employers usually gave employees a day off – and a nice present to make up for troubling them over the holidays.

"Why don't you get yourself something nice too," he said after a while, hoping this would make up for asking the man to acquire a tree for him at such an odd time. "Happy Boxing Day, Jeeves. And thank you. For everything."

"Happy Boxing Day, sir," the man replied, seeming almost surprised. "I wish you and your companion the loveliest of evenings."

They finished the day with a stroll across London, with the two speaking of all sorts of things – though nothing related to the moonlit world.

What Japan was like (with Ilya expressing utter shock at how people could live in such small rooms, and in such close quarters); what it was like to ride a train; what it was like to go to school with other people, to wear a uniform, to have friends.

All these things, and more.

"You don't have to wonder what it's like to have friends," Shinji said to the girl, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm more than happy to be yours."

"Really?" she asked, her expression hopeful and fragile all at once. "But…but we're…" She looked down. "We're supposed to be enemies, Makiri."

"But we're not," Shinji replied, drawing the girl close to him as he struggled to find the right words. "Right here, right now, we're just a boy and a girl. Together."

"Mm..." Ilya said, letting herself lean against him, shivering. "Maybe for now, but it won't last, you know. Sooner or later we won't…we'll…"

"Maybe." Shinji wasn't certain where things would go himself, but…he didn't want to see her hurt. Even if she had been born to be his enemy. "But for now, we're here. And I want to see you smile."

"Ok…" the homunculus murmured.

They walked in silence for a while, through squares and street and parks, until they came at last to a canal, where Ilya saw an interesting sign.

"Can we ride that?" the girl asked, eyes wide with wonder as she pointed at what looked like a classic Venetian gondola, with a sign promising hot chocolate for any riders. "I've never been on a boat before."

"Of course," Shinji said warmly, as he went over to the gondolier, who smiled at the young couple – and even more at the amount the boy slipped him. He helped the homunculus on board, and then the two were off on a magical evening, enjoying hot cocoa and each other's company as the lights of the city gleamed all around them.

* * *

The following day was somewhat more subdued, with Shinji waking up in his manor after a thankfully dreamless night, now convinced there was something to having either Luna or Zelkova around that kept him from seeing those visions.

' _Master, an owl came for you this morning,'_ came the mental voice of the _kodama. 'It had a letter from your Master.'_

' _Oh?'_ Shinji thought, coming to wakefulness all at once. _'What did she say?'_

' _You are to meet with her tonight at_ Rules _to discuss various matters.'_

Rules was the oldest restaurant in London – and one of the most celebrated in the world, having been established the year that Napoleon opened his campaign in Egypt. Certainly Jeeves had mentioned it once when he'd asked for suggestions on where to take guests.

' _Various matters, Zelkova?'_ he inquired, wanting some clarification on what Touko meant. She hadn't…happened to get a hold of one of those keepsakes, had she? The one with her sister in them? Because if she had…

Shinji felt a sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, but shook his head. Surely it couldn't be that bad…could it?

' _Various matters, Master. That was all the missive said.'_

Sometimes Matou Shinji thought the magus took a special pleasure in tormenting her provisional apprentice, or amusing herself with the discomfort of others in general. But then, every magus had some kind of quirk, so if that was all he had to worry about, that wasn't too bad.

The morning had been spent at home, cooking a nice breakfast with Luna's help, before heading off to the Room of Requirement through the Vanishing Cabinet to train, with the awareness of the world he saw in fusion form helping to dispel many of his other worries and anxieties.

Though now that he had managed to achieve fusion form himself – usually after being pummeled to the edge of defeat, he'd learned the hazards of dealing with a Luna Lovegood who didn't have to hold back on the power of _her_ spiritual fusion.

…and she was much more experienced than _he_ in that regard, with offensive power enough to match his defenses, and speed to match his awareness, making the fight – rather interesting, though he'd also lost this time, with his familiar remarking that he needed to learn to open the door of the self before being driven to desperate straits – something he thought was probably fair enough, since even when at optimal condition, dealing with one who could control the very air as he could the earth was a rather tricky matter.

After that, he owled Harry, asking if the Boy-Who-Lived would like to show Rin around for the day, given that Harry moved in the well-to-do circles of Magical Britain quite often. The boy had agreed, but only if he could bring Daphne along, since he thought his lover might like to see how Muggle London compared to Diagon Alley – which Shinji had been fine with, with Shinji arranging for all of them to meet on the steps of the British Museum.

He'd gone over to Ilya's penthouse after that, with a curious Luna Lovegood and her familiar in tow. The two girls had simply looked at one another, with Luna assuming her fox-eared fusion form.

"My good friend Luna," he said by way of introduction. "Luna, this is Illyasviel von Einzbern. Ilya for short."

"Huh, she's like you, but even more inhuman. A demi-human," the homunculus remarked, circling the girl and noting the fluffy ears and tail. "Or at least very much like one. How curious."

"You smell like the snow," Luna noted, her silver eyes looking unblinkingly into crimson. "Like the winter itself. Innocence mingled with blood."

"…you two are alike," Ilya noted, frowning slightly. "Only she has a lot more resistance than you do." Then the girl shook her head and brightened. "Come on, we have a tree to decorate!"

"A Christmas Tree?" Luna asked curiously, with Shinji just nodding.

"…it's a long story."

* * *

Dinner with his Master was about what he'd expected, with the private dining rooms in _Rules_ seeming to exude history, understated luxury and warmth, with wood paneling, red leather chairs and Sketch Victorian artwork.

Aozaki Touko mentioned that Snape thought well of him, and that he was a fine candidate for the Potions competition – something that the Director would no doubt be interested in seeing him win.

Shinji swallowed at those words. If Sion wanted him to take part in the competition, then, well, take part he would – even if he had to divert some of his efforts from one class or other. Perhaps Arithmancy, as it was an introductory level class and only focused on theory this year. He could catch up later.

His Master's expression had soured when he mentioned meeting her _sister,_ however, especially when he mentioned Touko's debt.

"I don't suppose I could ask for a loan, Matou?" the puppetmaster inquired solicitously, her glasses coming off as she smiled thinly. "After all, you _are_ my apprentice."

And an apprentice had a duty to his Master, even if Shinji felt a bit dubious about ever being paid back after hearing just how much of the Magic Gunner's income Touko had spent…

"…why don't we make it an exchange instead?" he suggested weakly, with the puppetmaster staring at him, as if silently asking "do you not trust me?"

"Actually, my Master has a point," Zelkova pointed out, as the black fox shifted into his human shape, bowing to the magus.

"…and what might you be?" Touko inquired, raising an eyebrow, her curiosity winning over her ire for the moment. "Aside from Matou's familiar, that is."

"I'm Zelkova," the _kodama_ replied with a polite nod. "An aspect of the Great Tree of _Shiretoko_."

"A _kodama_ then?" the puppetmaster asked, intrigued. "I thought you were a _kitsune."_ She turned her gaze towards Matou Shinji, looking at him appraisingly. "I don't know of many who have one of those as a familiar. Hijiri aside, that is."

Shinji blinked.

"I thought Matsuo-san's familiar was Kaiduka-san." He frowned, given that he recalled the other's abilities quite well. "And he is a five-tailed kitsune, yes?"

"I didn't mean Kaiduka." Aozaki Touko's reply was curt and to the point. "I mean the Great Tree of _Mahoutokoro."_

"…the _tree_ is…?"

Could it be that she was in fusion form _all the time?_ That the reason she was so powerful was that the spirit of the Tree itself was her familiar? That…

…actually made a good deal of sense, as it also explained why she couldn't leave the area.

"Indeed. Very well, Matou, let's talk terms."

And so they'd dickered a bit, negotiating over what could be acquired for 4 Million British Pounds, eventually settling on advanced defenses for Shinji's manor, and a full set of enchanted clothing to boost his speed, power, and more.

"…including an extra set of gloves and boots, right, Master?" Shinji questioned, with the elder magus sighing.

"…you drive a hard bargain, but yes," Aozaki Touko noted. "I can be by to set up bounded fields and other protections on the 29th and 30th. Will that be soon enough?"

"Yes. And while you are there, you can pick up the gifts I got you," Shinji replied graciously, fighting the urge to sigh in relief that things hadn't been worse. He'd been tempted to cave at the offer of basic defenses and a favor in the future, but that would require tracking down his Master, and she wasn't always available.

"Oh? And what might those be? Tomas brought me the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, a chalice with rather interesting properties, after the contamination was cleansed from it."

"…contamination?"

"Akin to that of the diadem," Touko said bluntly, as Matou Shinji stiffened in shock. "Don't worry. I did not create another Tomas. It was far more efficient just to add the soul fragment to the existing puppet, so he requires less prana to maintain."

"I see…" Shinji noted uneasily. "I bought a Vanishing Cabinet for you. So you'd have a way to access London quickly from _Mahoutokoro_ if you desire."

"…to use such for international travel is strictly speaking illegal, you know." The puppetmaster's voice was dry, her lips curving up into a smirk as she watched her apprentice sweat for several long seconds., before she chuckled, breaking the tension. "But then what are laws anyway?" The woman smiled slightly. "And I'm sure Hijiri will be fine with it once I talk with her about this."

"…so I hope," Shinji noted. "I have a small linked pair for your use as well, in case you needed some more secure means of communication than using Tomas."

"How thoughtful," Touko said blandly. "Speaking of secure, I suppose you should know that the Director wishes to see you for lunch tomorrow, in this very room."

"Ah," Shinji responded eloquently.

"There's also this," the puppetmaster allowed, as she retrieved a package from the floor and passed it over to her apprentice. "From your grandfather."

"Grandfather? What could he…?"

"I don't know. Open it." To Shinji, his Master's comment sounded much like a command, so he obeyed, opening the simple paper wrapping and the wooden box beneath to reveal…

' _I know this…'_

…a bracer with a retractable blade. It was old, certainly, but it seemed in fine condition, all the same, and there was something about it that seemed familiar.

' _My dreams. I was wearing something like this in my dreams…'_

"Master…what is this?"

"Your grandfather called it a memento from old Rus," Aozaki Touko explained, taking a cinnamon stick and putting it between her lips in the manner which she would normally do a cigarette. "A hidden blade that disrupts the prana and prana constructs of those it strikes. A weapon one of his old allies used against the Templars."

"…the Templars…"

Shinji swallowed, looking down at the blade as his breathing began to quicken. What did…what did all this mean?

"Master…what do you know?" he asked quietly.

"Only what I am telling you," the woman replied. "The Director would probably know much more. Or perhaps…your Mentor, who Severus seems to suspect of being rather dangerous."

"…you mean Professor Lockhart?" It was true that the man did seem to know a lot about melee tactics, the art of movement, and such, but he wasn't sure. "Does the name Alamut mean something to you, Master?"

"It is the name of a fortress – and a region once controlled by the Hashshashin, under the reign of Hassan-i-Sabbah," Touko related. "Why?"

"…no reason," Shinji responded. "Just a matter of curiosity."

He resolved to ask Sion about this, given that as Director of Atlas, she would no doubt know quite a bit about the world and its organizations. Perhaps she might have some insight.

"I see," Touko noted. "In that case, Matou, there is one more thing."

"Oh? And what might that be?" the boy asked curiously. Was there another artifact, a gift, or something…?

"Why the check of course," the puppetmaster replied with a smirk. "It is very kind of you to treat your Master to dinner at such a fine restaurant."

"…of course, Master."


	31. Chain of Fate

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 31.** _Chain of Fate_

"And your familiar refers to this ability as fusion?" the Alchemist inquired, raising a purple eyebrow as a forkful of Daube of Beef – a stew made with inexpensive beef braised in wine, vegetables, garlic, and Herbes de Provence – paused halfway to her mouth. With a considering _hmm_ , she set the fork back on the plate. "Fascinating."

"You've heard of it before?" Shinji asked, his venison curry going untouched as he studied the face and form of the one who meant more to him than anyone else in the world.

Since the days she had left her identity as Sokaris behind, they'd barely spoken at all – had barely even seen each other, aside from special occasions such as Tanabata or at the Gala, and she'd always been richly dressed on such occasions, either wearing a seasonal _yukata_ when at _Mahoutokoro_ or elegant ensembles of purple and white.

Seeing her in casual clothing – or passed for it, rather – a black cashmere sweater, jeans, and a dark purple beret and scarf, with her bright purple hair falling loose about her shoulders, had rooted him to the ground in shock, with the poor boy not believing the evidence of his senses until she'd bidden him to come forward and sit.

"You look…different," Shinji had said, once he'd found his voice again. "No business to attend to today?" he'd hazarded. He hadn't seen her aide on his way into the restaurant, after all – though he supposed that didn't mean much, given that a good aide knew when to be inconspicuous.

"That is correct," Sion had affirmed, the corners of her lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. "Save for a meal with an old associate."

"With…Master?"

But the Alchemist had shaken her head no.

"No, Matou Shinji." The Director of Atlas' voice had been almost…amused. "With you. Unless you find my company…disagreeable."

"N-no!" Shinji had blurted, on his feet before he knew it. Chagrined at his outburst, the boy had flushed from head to toe as he sat back down. He didn't want to look like a fool in front of her, and yet here he was, as if he hadn't spent the last few days charming his ancestral enemy. "I mean, not at all…Sokaris. I'm honored – just a little surprised that you would set aside time for me during a state visit."

"It is only natural," the Alchemist had noted quietly. "After all, you were my first friend. And I find your adventures curious."

"Hardly much of anything compared to your ventures, I would think," Shinji had demurred. "With you working with the Magicians and others towards the salvation of the world."

"All the same."

And so he had indulged Sion's curiosity, over their not-so-simple meal, regaling her with the tales of what had happened after their meeting in _Mahoutokoro_ last summer. His odd dreams, his training, his search for a new wand – how difficult it had been to find one, and how he'd eventually had to trade the _Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ for one.

"Granger's gift to you," the purple-haired Alchemist had remarked.

"You remember." Shinji had surprised by this, but his questioning look went unanswered.

"I do."

He'd talked of his quest to obtain a familiar – a journey that had taken him across Hokkaido to _Shiretoko_ , the last of the unexplored regions of Japan, the kingdom of forests, mountains, and waterfalls where many _youkai_ still dwelled. Of the conflict with the _onikuma (tanuki)_ that had nearly ended him, of the experience of camping and living in the wilderness, of cooking…or rather, trying to cook, since his first few attempts had been anything but impressive.

Only as he'd spoken, he'd found his old friend nodding sympathetically.

"…you know something about that, Sokaris?" the boy had asked curiously, tilting his head. He couldn't imagine her camping, really. "I would think a Director wouldn't have to worry about such things."

Certainly, the students of Hogwarts didn't, but…

"I was not always a Director, Matou," Sion had answered, a distant expression on her face, as if she was looking into the past. "There have been times before we met when an enchanted tent and a campfire would have seemed the height of luxury, compared to a leaking cardboard box. The verdant lands you walked through on your quest Elysium, compared to scorching winds and desert sands."

"…you once said you had not been home in a long time." She had said that long ago, after their first Christmas together at Hogwarts, when they'd stood in a desert created by the _Book of Spells._ "I didn't know what you meant then. But after seeing TATARI…"

"Indeed, Matou. Your assumption is correct," the Alchemist had related. "But you were telling me of your year."

"Mm."

And so he'd continued, speaking of the Great Tree of _Shiretoko,_ of his familiar Zelkova, a _kodama_ that was but an aspect of a greater whole, and of the ability of some practitioners of witchcraft to join with their familiars through a variant of possession, gaining awareness and power over aspects of nature itself.

Whereupon she'd interrupted, bringing the conversation to the present time.

"I have not heard of it as such," Sion noted, her eyes curious as she looked over the boy. "However, the awareness and control you describe bears similarities to what magi call _Regression to the Age of Gods,_ something possessed by some of the oldest elementals. I had not thought practitioners of witchcraft to be capable of such, despite their inhuman heritage."

"Due to how dilute this heritage is, you mean," Shinji replied, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't actually heard the term before though."

"It is not common, though it is said to be the elemental equivalent of Magic Circuits," the Alchemist commented, seeming rather intrigued by this. "If this fusion you describe is possible, then perhaps practitioners of witchcraft are more akin to vessels preserving fragments of the past in the present. Fragments of the Age of Gods which live on to this day and can catalyze a _Regression,_ allowing otherwise forgotten mysteries to live on _."_

Shinji felt a shiver go down his spine as the Director of Atlas Academy made these comments, especially since…

"…Magical Britain doesn't seem to value the knowledge of the past, though," he said quietly. "Or anything 'inhuman', really. The prejudice I have seen against goblins, house-elves, and more – all of which seem to share a common origin with practitioners of witchcraft, but whose power are more potent – it make me wonder how much has been lost, and why."

"How much is unknown, though the histories suggest that what was lost was great indeed. The why, however is simple enough, given your observations," Sion remarked, shaking her head. "Even the Stone was created long, long ago."

"Oh?"

"I would hypothesize that in most so-called wizarding societies, especially in Europe, the mysteries that they have inherited have been diluted by their choice to live as humans," the Alchemist commented. "Forming societies and civilizations that ape the world of humanity at large, especially the common sense of most humans."

"No longer acting as mediators of nature, you mean," Shinji noted, narrowing his eyes as he recalled Zelkova's words on how Luna saw the world much as a spirit might, wondering if her isolated upbringing had helped her in that way. "No longer seeing the world as it is."

"Indeed. Rejecting their inhuman origins for a human-centered society, they lost the ability to use the abilities they once bore," Sokaris concluded, raising an eyebrow. "And so they needed others, like the Mystic Codes they bear."

"Wands, you mean," Shinji mused. What Zelkova had called false echoes, they served as catalysts that allowed practitioners of witchcraft to tap into some of their abilities without having to give up the trappings of common sense.

"Just so," the Alchemist noted. "I have had studied such Codes extensively."

Naturally enough, Shinji thought, given that Atlas Academy was known for the artifacts they created in an effort to prevent the end of the world.

"What have you discovered?" he asked. "Perhaps why, unlike magi, wand compatibility is a major issue among practitioners of witchcraft?"

The purple-haired Alchemist nodded, holding out her hand as Shinji passed her a wand – his hazel and coral wand, at that. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then nodded, before handing the wand back to him.

"As expected, that is a simple matter," Sion explained. "For magi, wand-type mystic codes like the Azoth dagger simply amplify prana or store energy, much like your _ofuda_. The wands used by practitioners of witchcraft, on the other hand, are constructed to interact with their inhuman ancestry. Varying combinations of cores and woods resonate with a practitioner's spiritual core in different ways."

Given that their power derived from what they were, that the mix of human and inhuman was different in each individual, and in those descended from the fey, the elements one was linked to shaped one's personality and vice versa, getting a proper wand was rather critical, in fact.

"So depending on one's heritage, elemental alignment, and such, some wands may be more compatible than others – or more powerful when applied to a certain craft," Shinji reasoned. "That's…rather interesting."

"Just so. In a compatible wand, the interference of the wand and spiritual core are mutually constructive as opposed to destructive," Sion commented. "Whereas in an incompatible wand, the effect is destructive. That is, an incompatible wand, far from amplifying the abilities of one's spiritual core, might instead dampen it."

"…fascinating," Shinji breathed. He'd never even considered that having a wand might _hurt_ someone's development, but he could see how that might be the case, if that was indeed how they functioned – and none of what Matsuo-san and Zelkova had said was contradicted by Sokaris' findings.

' _Before wands were popular, perhaps more found powerful familiars, as such was a necessity to unlock one's full power…'_

…but with the most basic benefits of such a relationship offered by a wand, without the inconvenience and danger of interacting with beings like _youkai –_ or fey, in the west – he could see why many practitioners had drifted from what they were capable of, adopting the norms.

And once such a society formed, and certain standards and traditions had been set in place as _normal,_ things would become very hard to change. Not because people – or rather, practitioners of witchcraft were stupid, which they weren't if they could devise such workarounds – but because culture had an inertia of its own, and after a society became ingrained with generations of unthinking attitudes, it became nearly impossible to see beyond that.

Where he as an outsider, a child of the moonlit world determined to examine this new world, to find out more about it and analyze it from a critical perspective, others simply accepted it. And why not, when it was the only world they knew and they had no basis for comparison? He wondered why there was such stigma against mixed-bloods and Muggleborn – they accepted it as a given. He wondered why they feared the inhuman – they wondered why anyone _wouldn't_.

By aping human society, even as they claimed to have removed themselves from it, by rejecting the part of them that gave them their power, by failing to look at the past and truly _learn_ what had come before instead of assuming that everything had always been the same, they were destroying their abilities.

' _Tomas was right. Britain is rotting away, and they can't even see it…'_

Far from finding a solution, they didn't even realize what the problem was. _Mahoutokoro_ avoided this, but the reason they had not fallen victim to such a thing was because of the strong presence of _youkai_ in the Council, and the fact that it was much more aligned with the moonlit world than the world of day. They used wands, yes, but it was also made clear that wands were not all powerful, and should not always be relied on.

There, the inhuman was accepted, respected, considered natural, as it was as much a part of their world as anything else.

"If my hypothesis holds true, then those of Magical Britain called Muggleborns would likely have a great deal of ability, if harnessed," Sion noted coolly. "Hermione Granger being an excellent example of this."

"True, but they operate with major constraints," Shinji reflected. "As people coming into the society at a young and vulnerable age, they take their cues from those around them, assimilating into it, clinging to its rules and expectations."

As Harry had done – with the expectations of others weighing heavily upon him, molding an insecure boy into the powerful Heir of Slytherin, the hero others looked to.

And once a part of that society, it was difficult to leave, given that almost all of one's social ties were there, and that if one left, one would be returning to an alien world, with seven years of one's life having effectively gone to waste.

The reason Matou Shinji had not been so molded, that he hadn't simply accepted the expectations and standards of Magical Britain – well, that reason was right in front of him.

 _Sion Eltnam Atlasia._

The Director of Atlas Academy. The one he would gladly lay down his life – and more – for. The person to whom he owed almost everything he had, even who and what he was today. The Alchemist who had shown him worlds of possibility he hadn't even dared to imagine.

In his first year, he would have been willing enough to simply make a name for himself among the students of Hogwarts, until he'd met her – and it was wasn't their recognition that mattered, but the recognition of someone who he had thought an equal, but was far, far more.

"An elegant explanation, is it not?" Sion inquired, shaking her head. "Certainly more so than the belief that newly arisen practitioners – perhaps created by Gaia as new vessels as the old lineages fade in their role as vessels – steal the power of existing lineages."

"It is," Shinji admitted. Certainly it filled in many holes in his understanding of Magical Britain. "At the same time…"

If that explanation were true, then Magical Britain was doomed, should nothing change. And its end would not come about due to the rise of some Dark Lord, but because of their insistence on clinging to a lie.

"…I suppose it could be seen as tragic, yes," the Alchemist commented, almost seeming to read his mind, as she pursed her lips in thought. "As an aside, I would be interested in meeting your training partner, given how you have described her."

"Oh?"

"You are a rare existence, Matou Shinji. And strange powers attract others."

"…well, that's true." He raised an eyebrow, curious about something himself now. "Was that why you invited me to the gala?"

"No." The reply came at once. "Though your choice of guest was also interesting. A homunculus of the Einzbern, whose attire reminded the other attendees that her family once wielded the Third. And of what they, the Makiri, and the Tohsaka built." The Alchemist looked at him evenly. "Matou. Is a new Grail War likely to occur in the next few years?"

Shinji just shrugged.

"I don't know. The usual cycle is about once every 50-60 years," he explained, shaking his head. "If anyone would know, it would be…" But he trailed off, as his thoughts came to a halt, and when he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. "…the Einzbern."

"Indeed." Sion shook her head. "That is a matter I will have to inquire about with Illyasviel in the future."

"Oh?"

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Matou," the Alchemist related. "Simply a variable I must take into consideration for my calculations and ventures."

"I see," Shinji said simply. If she said so, he supposed it wasn't really something for him to bother with, though the notion that the Director of Atlas Academy was curious about the war – that she needed to know about it for her calculations, was slightly troubling. "So how go your ventures?"

"Things proceed to my satisfaction," she affirmed, though she seemed reluctant to say more – something the boy understood only all too well. She was a Director, after all, and she couldn't be expected to share everything with him.

So he changed the topic.

"Master mentioned that you had an interest in the Potions Championship?" he prompted, receiving a nod in return. "That you wished for me to compete in it?"

"Given the presence of competitors from the other…schools of witchcraft, and the ancient isle on which the competition is set, it presents an interesting opportunity for study," Sion said simply.

"A fragment of a past age in itself," Shinji murmured, remembering what Touko had mentioned to him. "An unmapped, moving isle." He supposed that would be a curious thing for a magus, especially one whose researches spanned past and future. As to the other point… "It would be interesting to be Hogwarts' Champion, certainly."

To see what competitors from other schools were capable of, and what the standards of education were like in places that had not perhaps rejected the fundamental inhumanity of their abilities.

"On occasion, the potioneers and alchemists of these practitioners have been known to do interesting things, as this one branch alone does not reject the power of the natural world," Sokaris allowed, her expression strange. "Especially those with some…outside influence." She referred, of course, to Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone, which had been crafted with information that had been leaked from Atlas by Zepia long ago.

"…like me."

To have a chance to _create_ something for the first time, using ingredients of east and west and more to surpass the limits and expectations of others.

"Indeed." Sion Eltnam Atlasia looked at the boy before her evenly, her lips quirking into a something resembling a smile as the boy nodded.

"Very well, Sokaris," the boy agreed with a crooked smile, bowing slightly to the Director. "Your wish is my command." He chuckled slightly, as he reached down to the satchel by his side and withdrew a collection of handwritten notes bound into a volume, sliding them across the table to the woman before him. "Speaking of outside influences, I believe these are yours."

The early notes of Nicholas Flamel.

Sokaris took the tome and opened it, an eyebrow rising in curiosity as she leafed through some of the first few pages, finding the contents rather familiar.

"This is…where did you acquire this?" she asked, her purple eyes staring into Matou's grey.

"The collection of the House of Black," Shinji replied. "Its last scion auctioned off the family's possessions."

"Fascinating," the Alchemist murmured. "I…appreciate the gift."

"Oh, but there's more," the boy added, smiling to himself as he withdrew three shoebox sized items. "Small vanishing cabinets." At his companion's questioning stare, Shinji flushed slightly. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath. "I…I thought perhaps you'd like a secure means of communication that was slightly faster than passing everything through _Mahoutokoro._ And…" He paused, groping for words. Why was it that around everyone else he was so glib, but around her…? "And perhaps that we could write. Sometime. So I got you a linked pair for your use, with what is placed in one appearing in the other, as well as one linked to…one of mine."

He was reaching, he knew. With as many things as she had to do, it was unlikely she'd have the time, but…

"That would not be…disagreeable," Sion said after a few moments, with Shinji feeling almost delirious with joy as he passed her his final gift – a large, oval locket of heavy gold, with a serpentine S in green jewels. "…and this is?"

"A rare and valuable treasure, dating back to the days of the Founders," the Matou scion dutifully related. "And it certainly feels to be so." There were powerful enchantments on it, after all, much like those on the Diadem of Ravenclaw. "I suspect this to be a treasure of Salazar Slytherin."

"Mm," the Alchemist replied, taking the locket in one hand as she passed her other hand over it, her expression seeming quite intrigued. "Aside from being an artifact with interesting properties, there is a fragment of memory within it. A living record medium…"

"Oh?"

"I will pass any relevant findings onto your Master," Sion noted curtly. "My thanks, Matou Shinji."

"Of course, Sokaris," Shinji said warmly, handing her the satchel – a fairly valuable that had been crafted with extension charms so it could fit many items. "It's the least I can do after all you've done for me. Take this. It will help you carry everything."

The Alchemist nodded, taking the items and placing them into the satchel, with Shinji suppressing a hint of disappointment. He had wanted to see her wear the locket, as he thought it would suit her, but if it were heavily enchanted, he supposed a bit of caution was advised.

"You enjoyed the gala, I trust?" Sion asked, with Shinji nodding.

"I…I hadn't expected you to greet me there, followed by the Magicians," the boy noted ruefully. "Especially not after my earlier encounter with the Magic Gunner."

"The problem child of London," Sion mused, with Shinji once again struck by how she referred to one of the most powerful individuals in the world in that manner. But then, when one stood on the same playing field, and seemed to have the favor of the Second Magician, he supposed she could call them whatever she wanted. "The Aozaki rivalry, I presume?"

"Yes," Shinji admitted, shaking his head. It had been terrifying to come face to face with a disgruntled Aozaki Aoko, and not for the first time since that day, he'd wondered why his Master felt the need to take her _sister's_ earnings. "The Magic Gunner was rather put out that my Master had been…taking her money."

For the first time, Sion seemed somewhat…irritated, her lips pressing together as her eyes hardened.

"I had not thought she would continue this behavior, as Atlas provides her with a sizeable retainer for her services," the Alchemist muttered. "Explain what happened."

Shinji summarized the meeting he'd had with the Fifth Magician, with the Director of Atlas shaking her head.

"I had not intended the wealth of the Room of Hidden Things to be used for such a purpose," the purple-haired woman noted flatly. "I trust you negotiated an equivalent exchange with your Master? Not a loan?"

"…she will be emplacing defenses for my manor," Shinji admitted. "And crafting me a set of enchanted clothing for a venture I will undertake this year."

"Oh?"

He briefly sketched out the situation with the Acromantula colony, and how he and the Stone Cutters intended to eliminate it this winter.

"Do be cautious," the Alchemist warned. "If a member of the staff is indeed involved, which seems likely, then it may be more dangerous than you imagine."

"…I will be, Sokaris," Shinji answered, dipping his head in acquiescence. After all, he remembered the disastrous outcome of the Stone Cutters' first year excursion – and knew, unlike everyone else, that the only reason he lived now was because Sokaris had intervened in the end. "Hence the armor. Though…"

Frowning, he withdrew a folded piece of paper from his jacket and smoothed it out on the table, passing it over to the purple-haired Alchemist, noting that one of her eyebrows shot upwards as her eyes fell upon the design.

"…this is from Gilderoy Lockhart, I presume." Sion's voice was utterly flat. "The self-proclaimed Old Man of the Mountain."

"Yes. But how did you know, Sokaris?"

The Director of Atlas Academy was silent for nearly a minute as she collected her thoughts.

"In our last meeting at _Mahoutokoro,_ we spoke of the Templars and their enemies," she began, her purple eyes studying every detail of the design. "The design of these robes, particularly the aquiline hood, is akin to those used by the Order of Assassins. The faction whose overriding philosophy is that nothing is true, everything is permitted."

Shinji blinked at that, as the pieces of the puzzle finally _clicked. But t_ hat meant…that Gilderoy Lockhart…was an _Assassin_.

Fumbling about, he withdrew the gift he'd received from his grandfather from his mokeskin pouch, placing the bracer with its retractable blade on the table before them.

"Do you recognize this then?" he asked quietly. "I've never seen such a design before. This was…from my grandfather."

"Most curious," Sokaris murmured. "May I?"

"By all means."

The Alchemist took the weapon into her hands, turning it over and over to see it from every angle.

"A Hidden Blade," she mused, with a hint of surprise. "The signature weapon of the Order of Assassins. And this one is designed to bypass the personal bounded fields of Templars."

…was this a coincidence? That his grandfather had sent him such a thing after he had given Lockhart the tome on the Templars?

He thought not.

"…hypothetically speaking, if I _was_ in contact with a member of the Order, should I show them this weapon?"

It struck him as the only way he'd be able to learn to use it effectively, after all. Though if he learned…what did that mean about his dreams? That they spoke of futures that might be?

"I would advise caution in that regard."

"Oh? Why so?"

"Because in the traditions of that Order, such weapons are not simply given. They are earned. And should you reveal your possession of such a thing, you are like to be tested – or recruited."

Something that might not leave him with much time to spare on other training

"…I'll have to think about it carefully."

"Indeed. I would not wish for our goals to come into conflict, Matou Shinji."

"They won't." The Matou scion's voice was utterly solemn as he looked upon the figure of Sion Eltnam Atlasia. "No matter what happens."

"Even if we should one day become enemies, Matou?" Her eyes were hard and searching as he looked upon the boy, seeing to her surprise that there was no sign of weakness, no sign of hesitation.

"That will not happen. Ever," Shinji resolved. "Even if it costs me everything, even if the world itself becomes your enemy, I will be your ally."

"…those are powerful words, Matou," Sokaris murmured. The Alchemist nodded, surprised but pleased by his declaration. "I wonder if you can keep to them, come what may…" She shook her head. "But we have talked enough of such matters. Shall we speak of other things?"

And so, as Shinji packed away his various items, they continued their meal, speaking of London, of the various things they wished to see, of possibility and the rich histories of places all around the world, which he found quite educational, and of his need for a maid for his house, given how Tohsaka was in the mornings.

"You say that room, board, and a workshop will be provided? And that Aozaki Touko is to set up defenses?" Sion asked curiously. "If that is so, I would be willing to ask if my temporary aide would not mind moving from her current residence. The preparation of meals and such would be a small price to pay."

"Your aide…her name was Mashu?"

He'd passed by a Lake Mashū in his journey in Hokkaido, after all. And if she was Japanese, as the name suggested, perhaps she would be able to keep Rin company. He hoped, anyway.

"Indeed."

At the conclusion of their meal, the two headed off together, wandering London for a time, before parting at the house of the late poet John Keats, an English Romantic poet who was one of the most studied and admired today, with a style more heavily loaded with sensualities, more gorgeous in its effects, more voluptuously alive than any poet who had come before him. In the modern age, his house had become a museum, memorializing his short life – and how the inspiration and love he'd found had been cut short by his death.

"We will meet again, I hope?" Shinji asked, as their cars came to whisk them away to other times, taking them back to their normal lives.

"Indeed. Even should it rain, Matou Shinji," Sion replied, with her answer causing a sense of warmth to well up in the boy's chest, as he knew the reference - it was said that on Tanabata, should it rain, Hikoboshi and Orihime would not be able to meet, as the magpies which formed their bridge across the heavenly river would not come. For her to say that she would be there...that meant a lot to him. More than words could say. "Happy Holidays, Matou Shinji."

"And you, Director."

He watched as her car sped off into the distance, as it became smaller and smaller - and then was simply gone. With a faint smile lingering on his face, the Matou scion took a deep breath. It didn't matter if she didn't get him anything in particular - going to the gala and having this time to spend with her was the best present he could have asked for. And it seemed she'd been pleased with him, which was good. Humming a simple melody, he summoned Jeeves to pick him up, heading off to join Ilya for what promised to be an interesting evening, with a "ghost walk" of London followed by a medieval style feast at the St. Katherine docks.

For a moment in time, all seemed right with the world, a feeling that extended through evening, into the night and even the morning...

* * *

…until at last, he found himself standing before his Master and Tomas, with Tohsaka Rin and Hermione Granger beside him. He'd invited them to watch the defenses being raised, as he figured Tohsaka would be living here and deserved to know, and that he owed Hermione a meeting, but something was wrong. The two girls were looking at each other warily, as if wondering why the other was there at all, the atmosphere feeling rather tense, as if a single wrong move would send everything into chaos.

"So Matou," Touko quipped, looking between the two girls standing with Matou, her smile almost _cruel_ as she took a puff from her cigarette. "Which one is your lover?"


	32. Cor destructum

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 32.** _Cor destructum_

For Hermione Granger, the day had started like most others days this winter holiday – cold, dreary, and grey, with her gaze falling on the calendar she kept by her bed as she woke.

' _December 29._ '

There were only a few days left till the New Year, and with it, the day when she could finally return to Hogwarts, a place that had been a new world for her. A place where her intellect – and her effort – won her respect as a potioneer and a Consul. A place where she had made friends for the first time in her life.

A place where she'd finally found love – and someone to love her.

Lying in bed, with her cat Sy-k-ri nestled against her, she smiled faintly as she remembered the awkward confession that had started everything. The girl only told Matou how she felt after he – and the rest of the Defense class – had seen the form her Boggart had taken: his ghost hovering over _his_ broken corpse.

A ghost that had accused her of murdering him – _just as she had killed Sokaris_ – because he would never be hers.

So she'd started to avoid him, thinking that if she cut off all ties with the boy, she wouldn't end up hurting him – that he'd be better off without her anyway, since he was so strong, so gentle, so kind. He'd never just push her away on his own, never protect himself – so she had to do it for him.

…only he hadn't let her.

He'd cornered her, forced her to tell him that she thought _she_ had caused Sokaris' death, forced her to admit that she was in love with him, forced her to explain why she had been avoiding him, to beg him to leave her alone because it was _better_ that way.

Only he hadn't.

He'd looked at her in a way that made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered, wrapped his arms around her and held her so very tenderly, telling her that they should start with just being friends and see what from there.

She'd thought he was just being kind – so kind that it hurt to be around him, even as she gave thanks that he didn't hate her, that he hadn't just rejected her outright, that she'd be able to keep loving him, even if she loved in vain. Until this year, after the summer, when everything had changed. He'd chosen her over _the_ _Boy-Who-Lived,_ taught her about the plants of the East, spent his evenings studying alone with her – even asked her to accompany him to the Halloween Ball, knowing they'd be featured as a couple in the _Daily Prophet._

…not that things had gone entirely smoothly after that, with Parkinson scheduling her Capture the Flag tournaments on Hogsmeade days (likely out of jealousy), or Matou having other responsibilities in the winter, given the demands of his Master.

But she couldn't fault him for his devotion to his duty. That was one of the things she loved most about him, after all, since he'd reformed from being a troublemaker. And even with how busy he was, Matou always found time to spend with _her_ when he didn't have time to spare for anyone else – not even Lovegood, his childhood friend, from whom he'd been almost inseparable the year before, with it being a common occurrence to find them reading together in the Common Room.

That, more than anything else, made it clear to Hermione that she was the only one on his mind, with the boy's invitation for her to visit him at his new house during the winter holidays sparking all sorts of romantic fantasies in her mind. Perhaps they'd cuddle by the fire and tell each other stories of their hopes and dreams. Perhaps they'd kiss under the mistletoe, sharing a long, lingering embrace in the privacy of a house that they couldn't at Hogwarts. Perhaps they'd stand on the balcony as the seconds ticked towards midnight on New Years' Eve, and usher in the year together with a kiss as fireworks blossomed overhead.

She'd seen the article about him in the paper, read the description of the renovated Black House and the sheer luxury of it – and not for the first time was humbled that Matou had chosen her – for surely a boy as wealthy as a prince, a chivalrous as a knight, could have anyone he wanted.

And so the thought of seeing her lover in his new home, of sharing a tender moment with him, excited her more than anything else this holiday season, more than the books she got as presents, more than time at home with her family, more than even the production of _The Tempest_ that her parents had taken her to see in Stratford-upon-Avon, the home of the Bard himself.

This…excitement, this sense of anticipation, had only been heightened by an after-Christmas visit from Tomas, an odd young man with striking red eyes who had introduced himself as Matou's mentor from _Mahoutokoro,_ though he'd looked British, not Japanese _._ Matou was still busy with his Master, Tomas had said, but had sent him in his stead to remind Hermione that he hadn't forgotten about her.

Tomas had taken her on a whirlwind tour of the highlights of London – the State Rooms of Buckingham Palace, the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London, and more – all things she'd never had a chance to see, although she'd lived in the city for most of her life.

And for the most part, it had been wonderful, with Tomas as a consummate gentleman…

…though she'd kept wishing it was Matou by her side instead, and had been…less than thrilled to run into Harry Potter at the Tower of London, with the Boy-Who-Lived being in the company of his lover, the pureblood Daphne Greengrass, and some oriental girl she didn't recognize from Hogwarts – with the last looking around at everything with wide eyes.

Hermione had just narrowed her eyes as she looked over at the three, wondering what mischief Potter and his girlfriend were up to in Muggle London, given that she imagined they would be at one function or another in wizarding society. Was he and his lover toying with an unsuspecting Muggle? He didn't seem the type, especially if he was Matou's friend…

But the Boy-Who-Lived had noticed the attention, turning his head to regard the Ravenclaw coolly – though his confident demeanor had faltered as he caught sight of _Tomas_ , with the boy stiffening to attention.

Tomas, for his part, had just smiled, with Hermione wondering how the polite young man beside her could possibly intimidate the leader of the Stone Cutters, even as the older youth steered them towards the other group.

As they approached, the other two members of Potter's group turned towards them, the oriental girl seeming respectful and Greengrass rather curious at why she was here – and why Harry seemed almost wary.

"Mister Potter…" Tomas' voice had been a near whisper. "And company."

"Tomas," the Boy-Who-Lived had replied evenly. "This is…an unexpected pleasure. What are you doing here?"

"Why, accompanying Miss Granger, of course," the older teen had said, his red eyes glancing over Harry's companions before returning to the Boy-Who-Lived. "And yourself?"

"Accompanying my girlfriend, Miss Greengrass," Harry had noted, somewhat curious why the powerful youth was with the girl often thought of as Matou's lover. Though…given that he himself was showing someone around, he suspected her knew. "And my guest, Miss Tohsaka."

"…I see." Tomas had raised an eyebrow as the twin-tailed Japanese girl bowed to him. "How amusing. Well, if that is the case, I wish you and your companions an enjoyable day, Mister Potter. It is always interesting to see the world with new eyes, isn't it?"

"…it is," Harry had answered after a moment. The two had nodded to one another, nod, the two groups had split.

"How exactly do you know Potter?" Hermione had asked Tomas after the trio had left.

"I trained him, of course." Tomas had smiled as he mused of what those sessions must have been like, as he couldn't remember the earlier days of his activation. "And I must say, it is always a pleasure to teach someone who has such an aptitude for the Dark Arts."

"…the Dark Arts?" Hermione had been taken aback. How could this pleasant young man – this admittedly handsome and charming fellow who was Matou's mentor – teach the Dark Arts, of all things? Surely _Matou_ wouldn't be interested in such things…would he? "But those are…"

"It is not what something is capable of, but what it is used for that defines something, Miss Granger," Tomas had said pleasantly. "What I mean by a good aptitude is he has the instincts for it and a drive I do not often see. But then, that is natural in those who have people who they wish to protect, like Mister Potter…and Mister Matou, as the best defense is a good offense."

"…I see," the bushy-haired brunette had murmured. "But that sounds like Defense…."

"It is, essentially."

"But the name…"

"'Ah, what's in a name?'" Tomas had said, citing a line written by one of the most famous Englishmen of all time. "'That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

Hermione's eyes had gone wide in surprise at the handsome youth's words, recognizing them as a line from her favorite play.

"…you've read _Romeo and Juliet_?" she'd asked curiously. Matou had said once that even in Japan they knew of the play, but she'd never expected to hear a wizard openly quoting from a Muggle text.

Tomas' answer had been more than a bit roundabout.

"An old man once told me that love was more powerful than any kind of magic," the puppet had said quietly, recalling a conversation from long, long ago. "Naturally I did my research before coming to a conclusion of my own."

"And what conclusion did you come to?" Hermione had inquired, wondering what this most cultured youth thought of love.

"Miss Granger, I am hardly an authority on the matter." There had been a hint of reproof in the young man's words, though Hermione had no idea why. "Perhaps instead of asking me, you would like to partake in some research yourself?"

"Oh?"

"Matou procured tickets for the much-celebrated musical _Phantom of the Opera,"_ Tomas had noted with a winning smile. "I understand that I am not the one you would most wish to see it with, but would you like to see it anyway?"

She'd agreed, and had a lovely time, listening to the richness of the words and music, seeing the sheer spectacle before her, recalling how over time, she'd stopped really thinking of Matou as a dangerous boy, a troublemaker – and instead had fallen under his spell, surrendering to his charm and passion and becoming his in every way.

Afterwards, as Tomas walked her home, the youth had given her what he'd said was but the first of Matou's presents – a primer on dueling and practical applications of defense.

"Why…?"

"You are quite a talented brewer, but in order to become a Champion, you must have more than the ability to create a most potent potion," Tomas had remarked. "A Champion stands alone, and Matou wishes for you to be able to protect yourself well even in his absence. He does care for you, after all."

While Tomas had not actually spoken with Matou about his love life, he often found legilimency to be quite a useful tool in gaining a person's confidence, making the art of social engineering quite easy. After all, it was easy to be charming and considerate when one knew exactly what someone wanted to hear, and had access to their deepest insecurities.

"Matou was thinking of me…" Hermione had murmured, feeling a warmth rise up in her chest at the thought of the boy's care. "And then soon, a day to visit…?"

"Of course, Miss Granger," the youth had acknowledged with a slight bow. "Have no fear, for I'm certain he will owl you before the end of the year. It would be unconscionable for him to forget about such a lovely young woman, especially one so devoted to him."

Hermione had colored prettily at the remark, as Tomas had kissed her hand and bid her good night.

She'd remembered those words in the last couple of days, as she'd waited for Matou's owl to come.

 _Tap-tap-tap._

' _It's here.'_

Hearing the sound, the girl threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, racing over to the window, where she halted in place at the sight of perhaps the most majestic owl she'd ever seen hovering outside her window against the backdrop of a gloomy London sky – a clockwork masterpiece of red lacquer and gleaming silver, with gems for eyes, a beak of gold, and glittering feathers – carrying a letter.

'… _this is Matou's owl?'_

She'd never seen anything like it, not at Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, so she imagined it had to have come from somewhere in the East. so, she opened the window, allowing the mechanical bird to come in and perch on her desk, where it deposited the letter.

Unsurprisingly, it was addressed to her in Matou's hand, with the note within reading thus.

 _Hermione,_

 _I hope you have been enjoying your winter holiday, and that the day with Tomas was pleasant. I'm sorry I've been so busy, but I haven't forgotten our promise!_

 _It is supposed to rain today, so I'm not sure it will be much of a day for an outing, but perhaps you would like to come over to my house at 12 Grimmauld Place just before noon, and we could enjoy a pleasant meal together, followed by an afternoon by the fire?_

 _My owl will wait for your reply._

 _Yours,_

 _Matou Shinji_

A wide smile stole across her lips as she read the letter. Finally, her moment had come. Matou had invited her to his house, where surely everything would be wonderful.

Her reply was very simple.

 _I'll be there._

What would it be like? What could she expect?

* * *

Excited by the thought of spending a romantic lunch and afternoon together with Matou, Hermione had set out with plenty of time to spare, arriving at 12 Grimmauld Place about a half hour before noon, instead of just before.

She bit her lip as she wavered between knocking and just waiting, since she didn't want to seem overeager, but…

' _Surely Matou won't mind, right…?'_

Only when she knocked, the person who answered the door wasn't Matou at all, but the twin-tailed oriental girl she'd seen with Potter yesterday, looking at her with piercing blue eyes. Only this time, Tohsaka, as she remembered the Boy-who-Lived calling her, wasn't wearing a heavy coat, looking quite comfortable in a formfitting red turtleneck, an almost scandalous miniskirt that didn't even go down to mid-thigh, and thigh-length socks.

'… _what. What is this girl doing here?'_

"Miss Tohsaka," Hermione greeted coolly, inclining her head as she swallowed her urge to scream. Surely Matou had a good explanation for this – perhaps this was just a guest he was taking care of for Potter, who would shortly be leaving? "I didn't know Matou invited you here too."

"Huh?" the other girl responded, seeming confused at her words. "I…live here."

"What."

Hermione felt a cold sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. What was this Tohsaka girl saying? That she lived here?

' _No.'_ She must have heard wrong. Maybe she had the wrong house – but when she glanced up, the golden number 12 was still there above the door. Ok, it wasn't the wrong house then – but then why was this girl here instead of Matou?

Matou had mentioned that one of his friends from Japan would be moving to London, but surely this wasn't…surely Matou would have told her if…

"Yu are Matou's fr-end?" the girl asked her, with Hermione opening her mouth to reply before the words hit her and she froze.

' _Friend? Did Matou…really tell her I was just a friend?'_

The bushy-haired brunette winced, nearly staggering as if the words had physically struck her, but shook her head, steadying herself. Maybe it was a cultural thing, or the girl's English wasn't the best, if she was really newly arrived in Britain – though Matou's English had been fine…

"I'm Matou's girlfriend," Hermione said flatly, her eyes hard and challenging as she stared at this…this potential rival. "Just who are you to Matou?"

Rin was uncertain why the other girl was staring at her so rudely, as if the wrong answer would lead to her being assaulted. Matou had said one of his friends would be coming over later on, not someone who was obviously a threat.

' _Anfang…'_ she whispered under her breath – but before things could degenerate any further, a car pulled up in front of the house, with Matou Shinji emerging from within, stepping out into the rain with an umbrella in hand, frowning as he looked back and forth between the two.

"Ah, Hermione, you're early," the boy remarked, as the girl turning at the sound of his voice, rushing over and giving him a big hug, an embrace he returned gingerly as Tohsaka glared. "It's good to see you."

He'd just returned from taking Luna and Zelkova over to spend the day with Ilya, given that the Einzbern _was_ his guest, and that he could tell something was troubling her, even if she wouldn't talk about it. Luna was always good at getting to the heart of things though, and Ilya had expressed an interest in meeting her again, calling her a vessel of other powers, so he figured that even if he couldn't be there, at least Ilya might enjoy Luna's company.

The boy had thought he might have a few minutes to get things ready for Hermione's arrival, since Luna had already gone out of her way to prepare a sumptuous meal, not that he'd arrive to see Rin and Hermione at each other's throats.

"It's good to see you too, Matou," Hermione whispered, her arms tightening around Matou as she reveled in the warmth of him, the scent of him, the closeness of him. "I missed you so." But then she pulled back, glaring at the girl in the doorway. "But who is that Tohsaka girl? She said she…lives here?"

"…Hermione. Do you remember the friend I bought the house for?" Matou said gently. "That was Tohsaka. I guess you could call her my childhood friend."

' _No…it's…it's a mistake, right…'_

Surely she had heard him incorrectly. She thought Shinji had said that Rin was his childhood friend, and that he had _bought the house for her_ , which wasn't what he said before _._ Before the story had been that one of his friends just needed a place to stay…

He hadn't mentioned that the friend was already here. That the friend was a girl. That they were…that they were… _living together_.

"She's not…" the girl began, but bit her lip, her throat almost closing up out of fear. If she asked him what his relationship to Tohsaka was…how would he reply? No. She couldn't hold back – she had to know. "She's not…your lover, is she?" She cursed herself for her weakness, because she couldn't stop shaking.

"No," Matou replied almost at once, with Hermione going perfectly still.

"Really?" she squeaked, hoping against hope that she'd heard correctly. "She's not…?"

"No, Hermione, she's not," Shinji repeated, feeling a little concerned that Hermione had begun shaking like this – and at how pale she seemed. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to invite her over on a cold, rainy day – he didn't want her to come down with something, after all. "Why don't we go inside and warm up by the fire?"

"O-ok," Hermione whispered, letting the boy guide her to the door, where Tohsaka Rin stepped aside with a reproving glance and let her pass. With Matou's help, she shrugged off her coat and hung it on a hook, before allowing herself to be led to a comfortable couch.

"Let me get something hot inside of you, Hermione," Shinji said, thinking that something to eat and drink would help out, though already, as she sat by the fire color seemed to be returning to the girl's cheeks. "If you could keep an eye on her, Tohsaka, I'll get you something too."

Tohsaka nodded, sitting down across from Hermione Granger, though she didn't say anything. After all, there was nothing the two had to say to each other, each wondering why the other was here – a state that continued as Matou brought out steaming mugs of peppermint tea for the three of them.

Before anyone could break the uneasy silence though, there was another knock at the door, with Shinji all but jumping out of his seat and rushing to answer, leaving Hermione wondering who was worth that much of Matou's attention…with a small part of her feeling hurt that he hadn't greeted her in the same way.

Another girl, perhaps? Or Potter, or…? Many possibilities raced through her mind, though they all vanished as she saw a beautiful red-haired woman walk into the house, followed by a very deferential Tomas. The woman though, radiated a sense of power and confidence, not unlike the headmaster.

'…t _his…this is Matou's Master,'_ she realized, a conclusion borne out as truth when the boy addressed the bespectacled redhead as such. She hadn't expected the woman to be so…beautiful…

"Master," Shinji said with a bow. "I would like to introduce you to Hermione Granger and Tohsaka Rin. Tohsaka, Hermione, my Master, Aozaki Touko. She'll be setting up the defenses for the house."

Tohsaka Rin, familiar with the name, just _stared_ at the infamous puppetmaker. Aozaki Touko's presence – and the fact that she would be setting up the defenses, confirmed everything Matou had said as truth, and it stunned Rin that Matou trusted enough to let her be there while the defenses were being erected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hermione said, standing and bowing, with Rin doing much the same.

…and then the puppeteer spoke.

"So Matou," Touko quipped, looking between the two girls that Matou had introduced to her, her smile almost _cruel_ as she took a puff from her cigarette. "Which one is your lover?"

The room was absolutely silent, with several pairs of eyes looking at the boy to see how he would respond.

"Lover?" Shinji echoed. "Master, you should know better than to tease like that. Hermione and Tohsaka are just friends."

Tohsaka just nodded. She already knew Matou didn't see her like that, and besides, had suspected for a while that Matou's lover was the blonde girl who came by most mornings to make breakfast and to train with him, though he'd never come right out and said it.

For Hermione Granger, though, the world seemed to freeze, with Matou's words echoing in her mind over and over and over. Just friends. Just friends. _Just friends._

' _No. Matou didn't just…he…I…I…'_

Her mind went blank, her mug of tea slipping from nerveless fingers and falling to the carpet below, the scent of hot peppermint welling up in the room as a stain spread.

"I…I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling the familiar pain return – a pain like her heart had been ripped out of her chest – like everything she ever believed in had been broken to pieces. Her hopes for the future, her dreams, everything… "I'd…I should go. I don't feel so well. "

As she stood, Matou was by her side.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" the boy said, concern evident on his face as he looked at her. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Hermione nearly lost her footing, stumbling as his voice sent a lance of pain through her, but somehow managed to stay standing – and to keep her expression perfectly blank.

"That's ok, Matou. I'll be fine." Her voice was a toneless whisper as she shrugged off his hands and numbly walked to the door. "Thank you for inviting me over."

And with that, she left, without saying goodbye, without looking back, as the door closed behind her.

Touko raised an eyebrow as she looked on, before shaking her head and lighting one of her cigarettes.

"Master," Shinji began reproachfully. "You really shouldn't…"

But his voice died in his throat as the puppeteer just looked at him, taking a long, long drag.

"Are you going to go after her, Matou?" she asked evenly, after some time had passed, as her eyes fell upon the coat the girl had left behind. "Or…?"

"Allow me, Master," Tomas interjected with a sigh. "I don't think Matou would know what to do in a situation like this. And frankly speaking, I'm not sure if Miss Granger would want to see him right now."

"He could at least try," the magus commented, grimly shaking her head. "Even…" But Aozaki Touko didn't finish her thought. "Never mind. You can find her, then?"

"I can," the puppet replied. "I was once a practitioner of some small skill, after all."

"…don't cause any diplomatic incidents, Tomas," Aozaki Touko noted coldly. "I would hate for you to meet your end so soon."

"…the thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

* * *

As Tomas walked out into the rain, with an umbrella in one hand and Miss Granger's coat in the other, the puppet was all but expressionless as he felt about for the presence of the mind he was searching for. After all, hers was a mind he knew well by now, and it was not for nothing that in a past life, he had once been one of the most feared Legillimens in all of Britain.

It was a pity, really, that the girl had no idea of where to run to, as he could have just gone there, but all he had to do, really, was to walk about, searching for a mind that radiated pain – hurt – _betrayal,_ as such purity of emotion and thought was hard to come by in this modern age. The thoughts of most people were scattered in a thousand different directions, with trivial, mundane concerns lingering at the surface as they made their plans or reacted to everything coming at them.

' _Such strange existences humans are…'_ he thought to himself, for he didn't consider himself human. Not anymore, at least, if he ever had. _'Burning like candles in the darkness as they seek to satisfy their needs and wants and lusts.'_

For him, love wasn't even a factor in how he saw the world, despite what Dumbledore had once told him. Love couldn't feed a family, fill one's pockets, keep someone from starvation, cure someone who was dying from a fatal illness. Love couldn't protect people from bullies, from the threats that lay without (or within), from the everyday cruelties of the world. The old man had told him that love was the most powerful thing in the world, but what was so powerful about it that could not be achieved with hatred, fear, or some other motivator? Love of the Greater Good had not helped the old man face Grindelwald, after all. Love of Britain and the lives of the innocent had not helped the old man fight Voldemort's rebellion. And so in the end, he didn't think what had brought Voldemort low was a mother's love – merely a blood sacrifice.

Old Magic.

The type of magic that demanded equivalent exchange, the stuff of contracts and rituals and such things, making possible things far more powerful than the degraded spells one used today. A version of himself had gone further than anyone else in tapping into the inhuman nature that lay at the basis of a wizard's powers, but the more he learned from Aozaki Touko, the more Tomas had realized that the reason Lord Voldemort failed was because he hadn't gone _far enough –_ because no matter how far Voldemort had come on his quest for power, there had been one fixed constant – an obsession with Britain he had not been able to rid himself of.

Looking at the life of one who had separated his soul from his body, it was clear that the more of himself he'd cut away, the more he'd forgotten, until what remained was a desire for immortality and dominion, with the man his original had become forgetting why he sought immortality and what it was he sought dominion over.

Yes. In the beginning, he had once a supreme goal: to obtain all knowledge, to reach where no human could reach, to return wizarding society to something _more_ than it had become, burning away the corruption, the human-like characteristics, the things which caused hatred, suffering, corruption.

To overturn the natural order of cause and effect and create a new Britain, a new model for what could be if wizards remembered their origins, threw off the shackles of human society and truly created a new world of their own.

As a mere wizard – one of many in Britain, no matter how powerful – changing it would have become impossible in a single lifetime, so he'd decided to become something more than a man, to exceed the limits of humanity, to surpass mortality and reach eternity.

To change the world as Albus Dumbledore had never been brave enough to do, no matter how powerful he had been, held back as he was by the weaknesses of flesh and the folly of love, by slavish adherence to the laws which bound humanity.

To change the world in ways beyond the shortsighted folly of Gellert Grindelwald, whose desire to have wizardkind rule over humanity would only have led to the destruction of the wizarding world – or at least of Magical Europe.

If not from without – when the Association intervened – then from within, as wizardkind became more and more human, until they lost their powers altogether.

…yet in the end, Voldemort had become someone even more limited than Grindelwald, fearing Dumbledore when in reality Tomas had wanted Dumbledore to live to see the coming of a new age – to show the old man who had brought him into the wizarding world that he was wrong.

That change _was_ possible, if enough people were willing to raise up arms and stand against ignorance and oppression.

'… _but that was another life.'_

In this one, he served Aozaki Touko, a magus who knew eternity, lived in _Mahoutokoro,_ a place not unlike the Britain he would have to build, with access to so much more knowledge regarding the old ways, the power of nature and more.

Coming back to Britain, seeing how quaint it was in comparison, almost made him sad. It was this place that had changed him into Lord Voldemort a lifetime ago, its hatred, intolerance, and ignorance shaping him into a Dark Lord.

Dumbledore spoke of love, yet aside from the twisted love he had once had held for Grindelwald, Tomas wasn't sure if the man had ever truly loved anyone at all, given how he was estranged from what remained of his family and kept to himself – and how little he understood those whose histories were different from _his_.

As cruel and crass and threatening as Aozaki Touko could be, the puppet was certain that she understood love, understood rejection, understood emotion, humanity and inhumanity better than that old man ever had.

And of course, she understood him, as he understood _her_.

He understood how she didn't like to be close to people, how she would push away any who she deemed she was getting too attached to. He understood her mixed feelings towards her apprentice, the curious Matou Shinji, as he reminded her of herself in some ways. He understood how the story of her life had been shaped by rejection and the pursuit of brilliance to spite to those who believed she could never be more, fighting against prejudice and such things.

So if he had to do things like clean up after Matou's messes sometime, it was a small price to pay for what he learned. Something like this was simple enough too, given that on a day like this, very few would be out….

' _Ah, and there she is…'_

As the rain came down harder and harder, with the world obscured by white and grey, the puppet smiled as he sensed a young mind whose thoughts burned white hot with the exquisite agony he'd only seen from those who had loved and lost.

If his memory did not fail him, the girl was sobbing in Islington Green, described as a place where young lovers skipped in buoyant glee when the summer sun gladdened the air.

And so he quickened his step, making his way through the rain.

* * *

As the world poured down upon her, soaking her to the bone, her dress providing no protection at all from the icy rain, Hermione lay curled in a fetal position on the ground, her eyes unseeing. She didn't know where she was, and at the moment, she didn't care either. All she knew was that she'd run until she could run no further, until her legs had collapsed from under her, refusing to budge, refusing to move.

It was cold at first, her body shivering and shuddering and trembling, but slowly, the tremors had stopped, with the cold replaced by numbness spreading from the outside in.

Up her fingers, up her arms, into the very core of her, with everything growing dull and grey and lifeless.

Was she crying? Who could tell in this downpour, where raindrops washed away tears and sound and color?

' _Matou…'_ she thought. The name…it meant something, only she couldn't really remember what it was, with the fog rolling in over her mind. She just wanted to close her eyes. To drift away from everything and just…let go, at last.

It would be peaceful, at least.

Quiet.

' _Goodbye…'_

Then the fog claimed her, and the world went black.

* * *

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* * *

When Hermione Granger came back to awareness, she found that she was naked, albeit wrapped in warm blankets in front of a roaring fire, with gentle hands caressing her cheeks, leaving trails of warmth wherever they touched.

"M-matou?" she whispered, swallowing as flickers of memory returned. Had he…had he come after her, into the driving rain? Did he care about her after all?

"Ah, you're awake, Hermione," a silky voice said from just out of sight. "Drink this."

Something hard was being pressed against her lips, and obediently, she parted them, as a strange, warm liquid was poured down her throat, generating a sort of heat in her core that made her sigh with contentment.

"Matou?" she repeated. Surely, this could only be he…

"Sadly, no," the voice answered. "You're in a room at the Leaky Cauldron. If you must call me a name, call me the Angel of Magic."

' _Angel of…'_

"…Tomas," she breathed, suddenly all too aware of her nakedness. "You…you were the one…?" She swallowed, realizing that if he was the one who came after her – and brought her here – then he was also…he had also seen everything. _'I…I can't be a bride anymore. I wanted Matou to be the one…'_

"I did," the other replied evenly. "I found you half-frozen, unaware of the world, having collapsed in the rain. Hypothermia can be fatal, you know, especially if you don't wish to resist." The other sighed. "Especially if you run into the rain without your coat, you know?"

' _Without my…oh…'_

She had done that, hadn't she?

"I…I'm so stupid…" the girl whispered, feeling tears come to her eyes once more. "So…so stupid. I…you probably think I'm a useless girl, don't you? Someone who can't even take care of herself."

But fingers gentler than she could have imagined brushed away her tears as she looked at the flickering flames, almost wishing she hadn't been saved. How could she…how could she have misunderstood everything, thinking that Matou loved her, when he…when he…?

The girl gasped, as pain blossomed inside her chest once more. She felt ashamed that Tomas was seeing her like this, that anyone was seeing her like this, but she couldn't help it.

"It hurts," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper as she curled up into a ball.

"I'm sure it does," Tomas replied, gently stroking the girl's hair. "As they say in the play, after all, 'for never was a story of more woe…Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.' But then, I wouldn't know. I've never loved, after all."

"…never?"

It was hard to believe, given that the handsome youth was so very charming. Hermione was sure that he'd had _some_ romance in his past…

"Never," came the response, accompanied by a mirthless chuckle. "I never did tell you my conclusion about the old man's claim, did I?"

"…that love was more powerful than any kind of magic?" Hermione asked, feeling strangely vulnerable with Tomas here, brushing her hair with her wrapped only in blankets.

"Indeed," the puppet noted. "I thought he was a fool then, and after many years of reflection, I still do."

Hermione turned to look at Tomas questioningly, her expression curious and wondering.

"Why?"

"Because in my experience, love has never saved anyone. Only imagination," Tomas replied with a hint of a smile. "The things we imagine, the things we dream – they are the most potent magic of all. The stories we tell ourselves, the fairy tales, the themes – those are magic."

"But…"

"The reason you became strong, Miss Granger, was not love," the puppet mused aloud. "It was because you wanted to meet Matou's expectations, to prove he was right in choosing you as a partner. Because you wanted to play your role with aplomb – and so you did. Always, you have lived for others, playing into the expectations of others, gaining validation from others, without hearing the most important thing of all."

"And what is that?" Hermione wondered, falling under the spell of his words.

"That you are the one who matters. Not Matou. Not your teachers. Not anyone else. And that you yourself are good enough – more than good enough. You are as much as a witch as any of your peers, but you have to acknowledge that for yourself."

Hermione swallowed.

"I'm…good enough?" She didn't think anyone had ever told her that before. Anyone who didn't have some use for her anyway. But she couldn't imagine what Tomas possibly might want from her. It wasn't as if he was attracted to her or such… "But I've always…"

As long as she could remember, her sense of worth had always come from other people.

"I…"

The youth picked up something from the ground and held it out to her – something Hermione saw to be a hand-knit scarf. The scarf she'd knit for Matou. Learned to knit for Matou.

' _Matou…'_

Her breath was an indrawn hiss as she turned away, tears coming to the corners of her eyes once more.

"This was in your coat, Hermione."

"I…"

She turned away, as looking at it _hurt._ Once again, her heart was breaking as she remembered Matou's words, how they were _just friends_ , how he hadn't even come after her. Hadn't cared enough to come after her.

What had she done wrong? Why didn't Matou love her? Why…

"Do you want it?"

She shook her head. Why would she, when it was a symbol of everything had gone wrong in her life?

"As you wish," Tomas replied, and with a flick, sent the scarf into the fire, with the girl flinching, almost whimpering as the scarf – what she'd made – was eaten away, shriveling up as tongues of flames consumed it, reducing it in time to nothing more than ash.

Like her relationship with Matou. Gone.

"I take it you won't want the gift Matou had for you either," the youth noted, chuckling mirthlessly once again. "In that case, I could just consign it to the flames…"

"No!" the girl all but shouted, sitting up in a futile attempt to block the fire, squirming out of the blankets she was wrapped in as she spread her arms, realizing all too late that without the blankets, she was exposed to Tomas' sight – wholly exposed. "Don't. Please…"

The youth just looked at her for a moment, noting how desperately she was looking at him – how she was almost begging him not to destroy what Matou had given to her.

"…and yet in spite of everything, you care about him," the puppet murmured, nodding slowly. "Fascinating. I do believe that's the first time this conversation you've spoken up for yourself. And to think it would take a gift."

Tomas sighed, handing the girl the enchanted notebook, which she pressed close to her breast in an attempt to stop the pain.

"Who are you, Hermione Granger?" he asked quietly. "And what do you want?"

"I…" She didn't have an answer to that. "Matou…"

"Are you sure about that?" the puppet inquired, his voice a hypnotic whisper. "Do you really want Matou Shinji? Or do you just want the sense of importance he gives you, and nothing more? You cling to that notebook, even now, even after everything that happened."

"I…"

Tomas' words cut her to the quick, but she did not look away – could not look away from his terrible red eyes.

"Well. If that's how it is then here," the youth said brusquely, holding out a phial with a curious blue liquid inside. "The cure for your pain."

Automatically, she reached out for the phial, only to stop herself as she recognized what it was.

"That's…Lethe River Water," she whispered. "That's…not a cure."

While not as potent as a Forgetfulness Potion, it could still make people forget quite a few hours of their lives. Was Tomas telling her she should forget today…?

"Oh, but it is, Miss Granger," Tomas replied. "If you take this, then today never happened. You'll wake up in your bed tomorrow thinking you had a nice day with Matou, that everything is fine."

The girl stared at the phial, seemingly entranced as the sum of the world seemed to reduce itself to the shimmering blue waters within it – and all the temptation it represented. For this day to have never occurred. For this pain to go away. To forget what Matou had said, to believe that he loved her…

"I…can't…" she said eventually, letting her outstretched hand fall to her side. "It wouldn't be right. He doesn't…this will just happen again."

"Perhaps," Tomas conceded. "Though as a skilled potioneer, you know that is always an option."

But the girl shook her head.

"…it's not. That would be wrong." And not just for herself, but for Matou, who…honestly deserved better than a delusion. "Especially since I know…"

"…I'm glad you realize that," the puppet noted quietly, putting away the phial. "There are too many in this world who would throw knowledge away, be it knowledge of the self, of what one has done, or of the truth of the world. People would rather forget, than see the world as it really is."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"If only people knew what the world was really like," Tomas sighed, shaking his head. "And Miss Granger, you may want to put something on."

He gestured to the bed, where the girl's clothes – all dry now – had been laid out for her.

Meekly, the girl obeyed, moving herself over to the bed she saw in the room, picking up the sheets and blankets she'd discarded and holding them before her in an attempt to preserve her modesty, setting the notebook aside on the bedside table.

"Don't bother. It wouldn't be the first time I've seen a female body," the puppet noted with a sniff, though he did turn away to give her a bit of privacy. "But then, I've seen things…you people couldn't even imagine. Dragon hatchlings at dawn, taking their first flight. I watched spirits glitter in the dark near the _youkai_ gate. I've seen _kitsune_ dance on sunbeams and vârcolac howl at the new risen moon. Yet in time…all those moments will be lost, like tears…in rain."

Tomas laughed, his sound tremulous but surprisingly tender.

"For the first time in a long time, Hermione Granger, I am who I wish to be. Not what the world expects of me. What will you be, I wonder?"

The stage? Well…she had liked playing the role of Amata…

"You model yourself and your actions on books and plays," Tomas remarked. "But if you're going to do that, then why not make something of it?"

"Oh?"

"If you wish to play a role, then that's fine. Perhaps the theater is where you belong, where you will learn by…acting."

As the girl dressed, she let herself smile ever so slightly. It was a weak smile, but the notion of once more being on a stage did…appeal.

"Maybe. That might even be fun," she admitted. But her smile faltered as she considered Matou, and how she'd have to see him every day, how painful it would be. "But…"

"If you're worried about dealing with Matou, just remember you don't have to," Tomas noted. "You don't have to be in the Ourea. You don't have to study with him. You just have to do what Hermione Granger wants to do."

What Hermione Granger wants to do…was something no one had asked of her before.

"I don't know what that is…"

"Then discover it, before you forget who you are."

"I…" the girl blushed and looked down. "Why are you so kind to me? After I caused you so much trouble?"

"Because, Miss Granger, I am an Angel of Magic," the youth noted with a smirk.

Struck by the ridiculousness of that response, Hermione laughed for the first time that day, with the youth patting the top of her head.

"…thank you all the same, Tomas," she said, fully dressed now. "Can you…take me home?"

"Of course. Don't forget your coat this time."

"I won't. I won't forget."

"…good."


	33. Calm Before the Storm

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 33.** _Calm Before the Storm_

"I think it is best if you and Miss Granger do not see each other again."

"What." Shinji blinked at Tomas' words, not sure why the puppet was saying this. "Why?

"Ah, Matou. You assumed that the two of you were friends, didn't you?" And here the puppet _laughed_ , the sound mirthless and cruel and cold, with Shinji shivering despite sitting close to the fire. "But only one of you believed that."

"…what do you mean, Tomas?" the Matou scion asked. It was true that, from Tohsaka had said, Hermione had apparently called herself his girlfriend, but surely before anything else they were friends first, right? If there had been a misunderstanding somewhere along the line, surely things could be worked out. "Are you saying Hermione and I…weren't friends?"

"Indeed," the older teen confirmed, his red eyes staring at the boy. "What you saw as overtures of friendship and words of encouragement, she saw as professions and gestures of truest love. For this is the truth. She loved you, Matou Shinji, was drawn to you, as a moth to an open flame."

"She…loved me?" Shinji repeated, his expression utterly blank at the puppet's revelation. True, Hermione had confessed to him last year, but looking back on it, he thought it was mostly because she didn't want to lose him – as she'd already lost Sokaris. That she would have been happy to simply stand by his side as a friend. "But…I told her I wanted to be her friend. That I cared about her as a friend."

"And what was it you said after that, Matou Shinji? ' _Why don't we start there, and see what happens_?'" Tomas commented, with the boy wincing at the incisiveness of the other's words. "While you held her in your arms like a lover might, reassuring her that she didn't have to be alone?"

"Ah…"

The Matou scion opened his mouth as if to reply, only to find that he could not speak.

"And then we come to today," the puppet continued, "with misunderstanding after misunderstanding building upon one another to reach the worst possible outcome. Her illusion that you were her lover was shattered by the truth – that you only saw her as a friend. Faced with that undeniable truth, she ran into the freezing rain, where at last, the tragic tale of Hermione Granger came to an end."

Shinji felt his heart stop, a dread chill spreading through him as he heard what Tomas had said.

' _What. No…that's not possible. She couldn't have…Tomas wouldn't tell me it was best for me not to see her again if…'_

"Can you imagine what it must have been like, Matou?" Tomas asked, quite conversationally, the sly smile on his face a poor match for his words. "To feel so utterly betrayed that the world seems to crumble beneath your feet? To know that everything you believed in was a lie? To think it would be better if you simply vanished from this earth?"

The puppet's smile sharpened as he stared at the boy, with Matou Shinji paralyzed, unable to look away.

"I think you do," the youth whispered, as images from his past flashed into Shinji's mind of the most terrible day in his life – the day when he'd discovered he would never been the Matou heir, that the adopted Tohsaka girl had been his _replacement_ , that he was _useless_. The images came faster, faster _, faster,_ until they vanished, with Matou Shinji finding himself on his feet, crying out "No!"

"…you…that was…."

"You should be careful, Matou," Tomas commented dryly. "While you have some proficiency with Occlumency, a disturbed emotional state can leave your defenses weak."

The boy's face twisted into a grimace.

"Why…?"

"Because you needed to understand the treachery of human hope," the puppet answered tonelessly. "And why it is best that you and she go your separate ways." He paused, taking a moment to shake his head. "It is true that Hermione Granger lived this time – due to my intervention – but such may not be the case the next time, or the time after that. That is, if you remain 'friends.'"

"Oh," Shinji said numbly. He could almost hear Hillard chiding him, reminding him that "hearts are fragile" – a warning he hadn't quite taken to heart, with disastrous consequences. "But…"

"If you approached her again, the girl would surely come back to you – because she is too weak to push you away, as she knows she should. When she walked out of that door – she walked out of your life. For her sake and yours, do not chase her. If you do…" Tomas shrugged eloquently. "…well, I cannot be responsible for the consequences if you do not care about her. And you know as well as I do that you do not – not in the way she most desires."

"…that…is true," the boy admitted in a small voice. He'd thought of Hermione as a friend and nothing more, because for him, she could _be_ nothing more. Not when Sokaris – Sion Eltnam Atlasia – the one who represented a path no others knew of in this land, was the one who was almost always on his mind, with Luna – his partner on that lonely road, and the one who kept him sane – occupying most of the rest. "I see your point, Tomas."

Shinji sighed, shaking his head as he sat down again, sinking into the cushions of his couch.

"I guess it wouldn't be a good idea to take Hermione to the luncheon on New Year's Eve then," he mused, recalling a letter that had come by owl that morning, inviting him _and a guest_ to dine with Hector Dagworth-Granger, the founder and head of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, given his standing as one of the leading candidates for Hogwarts Potions Champion.

He – and the other Stone Cutters – had met the man in passing after Dumbledore's death, but they hadn't really spoken then, since their presence at the ceremony had largely been symbolic. A private luncheon, however, promised to offer much more of the man's attention, and he had thought Hermione would be good to take with him, given her interest in the craft and the fact that it would be an interesting opportunity for her, but…

"I do believe Miss Granger would misunderstand the gesture," Tomas noted. "You are free to do what you wish, of course, but it would be in both your best interests if you heeded my words."

"…I understand."

* * *

Over the next day, as he observed his Master preparing to set up the second layer of defenses for his manor, Matou Shinji had found himself wondering who to bring with him, since Hermione wasn't an option any longer – not with how much he'd hurt her. His first thought had been Luna, but the blonde had said that while she would be happy to go if he didn't have anyone else in mind, it would be better if he went with someone who would appreciate the opportunity.

' _True. Luna doesn't really care what others think, and I don't think she'd have much use for networking…'_

So he'd considered who else might want to go, his mind touching on – and instantly discarding – the notion of bringing someone from the moonlit world, given that Ilya would not appreciate being bored if there was much talk of potions and such, and Rin wouldn't quite understand everything that was going on. She had enough issues being introduced to one new world as it was, without him throwing another into the mix.

' _No…it has to be someone from Hogwarts.'_

As he thought of that, the face of Pansy Parkinson came to his mind, with him recalling the words she'd said to him before the first Capture the Flag meeting – that she wanted power enough to walk her own path without being beholden to others. Truth be told, she'd helped him a number of times in the previous year, shown that she was someone he could depend on in Potions and in matters related to the Ourea.

But…would she misun—

"Matou," Touko interjected a tad irritably, interrupting his train of thought. "You asked if you could watch as I worked today, so I would appreciate it if you paid attention."

"…I'm sorry, Master," Shinji replied, chagrined at the way his thoughts had wandered off. "I just…"

The magus sighed, taking a long drag on her cigarette.

"Whatever is on your mind is not my concern, Matou," the puppetmaster noted coolly, her red eyes glancing at the boy as if he were but a lowly worm. "While you are here, you are my apprentice, with everything else being secondary. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Master," Shinji replied deferentially, bowing to the magus.

"Though, I find it odd you asked to watch today and not yesterday, given that some of the foundation may have been at the edge of your comprehension. Today's work is simply beyond your level," Aozaki Touko commented, her lips curved into a thin, dangerous smile. "If you wished to understand what I am doing today, you should have watched yesterday, instead of…flirting."

Shinji found himself cringing a little bit in the heat of his Master's scorn, as she'd never expressed such disapproval of him before – well, at least she hadn't lately. The debacle with Hermione had been bad enough, once Tomas had laid bare the misunderstandings and what they had led to, but if Aozaki-san was unhappy with him as well…

"I'm—it won't happen again, Master."

The magus looked at her wayward apprentice for a long moment as if coming to a decision, then shook her head.

"No. It won't," she said flatly.

For many moments – several minutes, perhaps, Aozaki Touko was silent. "To be a magus is to walk with death, Matou. To step outside the boundaries of humanity and become a pathway for a miracle, as you well know. The smallest lapse in concentration, the slightest mistake, can be lethal."

"I know, Master."

"Do you?" the puppeteer asked quietly, before taking another drag on her cigarette. "Then why are you distracted?"

Shinji didn't answer. He couldn't answer – not if she didn't care what was on his mind. And being fair, it didn't matter. Because he was distracted. And that was enough.

"I will give you a few minutes to get your thoughts in order. When I return, either be prepared to learn what you can…or leave. Because if you're not paying attention, then your presence here is meaningless."

With that, Aozaki Touko walked up the stairs of the basement into the main area of the house, leaving Shinji alone in the dark.

' _Zelkova, are you there?'_

' _Indeed, Master.'_ The _kodama's_ mental voice steadied him, as he considered what to do next – what he _could_ do next. _'Do you require my assistance?'_

' _I…Yes. I would appreciate that.'_

He explained to his familiar what had happened – how some of the things he'd done had caused others to suffer, how he was distracted by the things that might have been, and now things that would not be.

' _In losing one who was connected to you, you have become more aware.'_

' _Yes. What should I…?'_

' _Close your eyes.'_

Matou Shinji proceeded to do just that.

' _And breathe, deeply.'_

A long inhalation. A long exhalation.

' _Again.'_

Once more.

' _Again,'_

Thrice.

' _Continue, focusing on the breath and what it means. That you exist. That you are not alone. That you are here.'_

The boy followed the spirit's advice, focusing on the air moving in and out of his body, on the quality of it entering and exiting, on the way it flowed, connecting the inner world with the outer world. Slowly, steadily, he felt himself fading, his sense of self fading, his pain fading as he became the embodiment of a truth – that he was still here.

With each breath he found himself sinking deeper, deeper, deeper into his consciousness, to the seal that kept his weaknesses, his fears, vulnerabilities and more locked away. The door behind which lay imagination – behind which lay everything and nothing and a thousand others – behind which lay the world itself.

He opened the door…and everything _changed._

He opened his eyes and he could _feel_ the world around him. The subtle shifts in the flow of prana, the way certain runes anchored magical energy, and certain others amplified it, how the warp and weft of the wood and stone around him reacted to the layers of enchantment already placed on them, seeming to hum with strange patterns.

It was almost overwhelming, feeling so many constructs around him, with the house itself and its very foundations of stone serving as his sensory receptors.

And as his awareness reached out to the world around him, he felt a presence moving towards the stairs, with the door opening to reveal a rather curious Aozaki Touko, who studied the boy's fusion form with frank interest.

"…I thought I felt a shift in the surrounding mana," the magus commented. "How curious…you can see much in that form, can't you?"

Matou Shinji nodded, but remained silent, awaiting his Master's judgment.

"Very well then. We shall continue. Note the work that has already been done – and do try to keep up."

The next few hours were very trying on Matou Shinji's mind as he stood there, scribbling down notes as he tried to process everything his Master was doing through every sensory organ available to him, to pick out the pattern of her work and how her advanced protections worked amidst everything else. Complexity upon complexity, patterns interlocking with others, one flow linked to another, with wards of fire, absorption, confusion and more blending into a whole with seemingly no beginning or end, covering the house, wrapping around it, growing through it like the tendrils of a vine.

The _How_ wasn't important. Simply what _was_.

And the blood he shed to attune the defenses to his will, as his senses expanded, expanded, expanded, becoming aware of, of—

When he came to, he was laying on the cold ground, having slipped out of fusion form after the mental strain of trying to understand everything had become too much, with only a small portion of what he had experienced remaining.

"Increased awareness comes at a price, doesn't it, Matou Shinji?" Aozaki Touko's voice asked from somewhere out of sight. "Especially when you use it on something beyond your understanding."

"…yes," the boy croaked, as whorls and sigils and runes danced inside his mind, less the specifics of each one did and more of how the patterns _felt_ , the nuances of everything compounding on everything else. "What…?"

"You desynchronized, Master," Zelkova's voice commented quietly. "While I commend you attempting to extend your senses so, I do not think you have attempted this level of it in the past."

"If you had used that ability when I was establishing the foundations yesterday, you would been far more prepared for today," the magus commented as she moved into view. "As it was, attempting to comprehend the work in its totality without any kind of preparation was perhaps foolish. But I imagine you learned something, nonetheless?"

He had.

Namely how far beyond him his Master still was, as it should be.

While he had some proficiency in at runes and charms, the whole of what his Master had done was not something he could comprehend. He could pick out bits and pieces of course, almost as if he'd were a student musician who who'd been asked to listen to a symphony orchestra during a live concert, and who could pick out what certain instruments were doing at certain times – but there was no way he could _recreate the entire performance, understanding how each instrument interacted with the others, after listening to it once._

"Yes, Master. Thank you…for the opportunity."

"Hmph. Good," the puppeteer noted, stepping over and handing him a sheaf of papers, upon which Shinji saw what looked like scribbles of runes and diagrams – in his handwriting, no less, though with his merely human senses, he found them puzzling, at best, like a complex cipher. "You may wish to study this then, to ensure that your understanding is not just instinctive. Theory and practice must align, after all."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

As he emerged from the Floo of the Brews and Stews Café in Hogsmeade, where the luncheon with the head of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers was to be held, Shinji peered out into the main room of the restaurant from the antechamber, curious at who else had been invited.

To his utter lack of surprise, Harry was there, with Daphne Greengrass accompanying the Boy-Who-Lived, as well as a heavyset gentleman in his twilight years – Hector Dagworth-Granger – and a few members of the press that he thought he recognized – Rita Skeeter first and foremost among them.

 _His_ guest, however, was not yet—

With a _whoosh_ the flames roared once more, with Pansy Parkinson stepping from them into the café.

"Quaint place this," the girl commented, as she came up next to him. "I don't think I've ever been here before. But then, I don't go to Hogsmeade much. Hello, Matou."

"Hello, Pansy," Shinji replied, glancing at the dark-haired girl, who was dressed in conservative grey dress robes, matching his own. "Glad you could make it."

"Happy to be here," the Slytherin girl murmured, her gaze curious as she looked over at him. "Surprised you chose me instead of Granger, though. I was sure you'd be taking her, given how often you've worked with her."

Shinji smiled thinly at this.

"I thought you'd appreciate it more," the boy said frankly. "Hermione…she's not the networking sort. And well, I remember what you said about walking your own path, after all. This is a start – and a thank you for all you've done this year."

"Huh," Pansy noted softly, shaking her head as she parsed the statement, or rather what was missing from it. "Then I was right. You and Granger were never…"

"…were never?" Shinji echoed.

The Slytherin girl chuckled ruefully.

"I thought that might be the case after what happened with the Boggart in the labyrinth," she commented. "…I remember what you said too. About Sokaris, and how as long as you lived, you would never forget her." The girl sighed, and harrumphed. "I wish I could be that special to someone. Someday. Without the dying part, hopefully."

"I take it you don't think 'death is the next great adventure then?'" Shinji asked, raising a slim eyebrow.

"…and just what idiot said that?" the girl scoffed, shaking her head. "When you're dead, you can't change the world. You're not off on an adventure. You can't do anything. You're just…dead."

"Our late Headmaster, actually," the Matou scion noted. "Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh. Well then," Pansy uttered, meaningless words, really. "A lot of us thought he was getting senile anyway."

"Or maybe he was just an old man staring death in the face, trying to come to terms with everything in his life before he passed on," Shinji said quietly. "He did die in his sleep only half a year after he said that."

"True, I suppose," Pansy allowed. "He did lead an eventful life, no matter what one thinks of him. I wonder if he had any regrets."

"Who knows?" the boy wondered aloud. "Most of his life was behind him, while people like us, young people, I mean, we have our lives ahead of us."

"You're right about that, Matou," the Slytherin girl noted, smiling softly. "You certainly do at least. I wonder what it must be like, to know a world most of us couldn't even imagine." For a moment, Shinji wondered if she meant the moonlit world, before she continued. "You, Potter, and Lovegood, that is."

"Heh," Shinji replied, his expression distant as he remembered the Gala and his first sight of _Mahoutokoro_. "It has its wonders, to be sure. And its challenges."

"I'll bet," Pansy remarked, a wry smile flitting across her lips. "Say, if you become Hogwarts Potions Champion, would you consider making me your Second?"

"My Second?" Shinji echoed.

"Oh, that's right, you're not in the Boot Camp, are you?" Pansy reflected. "Funny how you've risen to become one of the top two candidates for Champion despite that. Whoever is selected as Champion will be asked to appoint a Second, someone who can take up your responsibilities in case something happens to you before the Competition begins."

"Huh," Shinji noted, glancing over at Pansy with an unreadable expression. "There are privileges involved, aren't there?"

The girl chuckled.

"Of course, Matou," she confirmed. "The Champion – and his or her Second – is excused from all classes next year, and given exclusive use of the _Book of Potions_ to prepare for the competition. And since the Tri-Wizard competition is at Durmstrang, it may mean that we get privileged travel back to Hogwarts for any tutoring we wish."

"Interesting. Anything else?"

"…well, if you're Champion, and the _Book_ goes with you to _Mahoutokoro_ , then as Second, I would have to follow."

"…and you've always wanted to see another land."

"Well. Yes," Pansy admitted, shaking her head. "I'm not asking you to make a commitment now. Just to think about it, alright?"

"That much I can do, Pansy. That much I can do." Gallantly, the boy offered her his arm, and together, they walked into the main chamber of the restaurant, with Harry and Daphne seemingly a little surprised at his choice guest.

"Lovegood couldn't come, Matou?" Harry asked slyly, glancing up at Pansy.

"She thought I should bring someone who would appreciate it more," Shinji replied, with Harry raising an eyebrow and sighing. "What?"

"Nothing," the Boy-Who-Lived noted with a smile. "This should be an interesting day."

And so indeed it was, as Hector Dagworth-Granger was quite pleased to meet such a young – and distinguished – selection of Potioneers, having heard wonderful things about them from Professor Snape himself.

"A most exacting Potions Master, Severus is," the man commented. "Certainly a little less flexible than Lily Evans was. Your mother, I believe that was, Mister Potter. She would be very proud that you are a candidate for Potions Champion, I believe. Very proud, indeed."

"I'd like to think so," Harry demurred.

"As for you, Mister Matou, I have heard a few things as well," Dagworth-Granger noted. "Among them your skill with Charms and a rumored affinity for the Eastern Arts."

"Well, I _am_ apprenticed to a Professor at _Mahoutokoro,"_ Shinji admitted with a small smile.

" _Mahoutokoro,_ indeed," the head of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers murmured. "A fine school, with a most fearsome reputation in the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship." He glanced over at the Boy-Who-Lived. "I understand you've been there as well, Mister Potter."

"I was," Harry answered. "Though I wasn't fortunate enough to study Potions there, sir."

The man quizzed them on some aspects of potionmaking, and discussed some of the challenges that Professor Snape had given to them, seeming vaguely impressed by all they had done.

"Both of you would make fine candidates for the competition, it appears," Dagworth-Granger grunted. "Good. I have certainly read about you, Mister Potter, and I've seen the articles concerning your...exploits _,_ Mister Matou. Still, I wanted to meet you both in person before I gave the press my verdict as to your chances."

"Oh?"

"On behalf of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, acknowledged as perhaps the preeminent body of potion-makers in all of Britain, I would proud to see one of you shoulder the hopes of all Britain, whether the Boy-Who-Lived – the Hero who defeated the Dark Lord – or a son of _Mahoutokoro_."

The man extracted four vials from his robes, with the room falling still as those gathered saw the contents of each vial – a liquid the color of molten gold.

"This is…" Pansy breathed, knowing very well what _that_ potion had to be. One of the rarest and most valuable of all, as it was essentially bottled good fortune.

" _Felix Felicis_ , young lady," Dagworth-Granger intoned. "Simultaneously one of the most coveted potions in the world, and one of the most difficult of all to brew. Prohibited in most organized events…except Potion-making competitions, of course. Take these, with my blessing."

He handed one vial to each of the four students present – the Champion candidates and their guests – all of whom were stunned by this unexpected gesture of support.

"And now, let us meet the press."

With that, the waiting reporters descended upon the group like a murder of crows, all fighting for priority on questions and photographs, so they could get the meeting on the front page of their publications for the evening editions.

* * *

After the luncheon, Shinji doffed the outer layers of his formal robes, and had visited Ilya at her penthouse, dressed in a tuxedo, wanting to extend her an invitation to come to his New Year's Eve party, since he thought she'd enjoy it.

"You're welcome to come too, Ilya," the Matou scion noted, but the homunculus shook her head, a troubled expression on her face.

"I can't," the Einzbern replied distantly as she looked out the window at the grey sky outside. "I have to meet the Director of Atlas tonight."

"Oh?" Shinji questioned, but the silver-haired girl waved him off, clearly not wanting to talk about whatever it was. "Do you want to come with me as I make preparations, Ilya?"

"Yeah. Let's do that," the girl whispered hollowly. Shinji was a little worried about her, as she looked like she hadn't slept in a while, but he said nothing as they went down to the lobby and had Jeeves drive them around town, so he could pick up things like food and games.

Perhaps it was Ilya's influence, and his desire to cheer the girl up, but instead of any particularly fancy fare – or just ordering food from the Hogwarts Kitchens, as he'd done for Christmas Eve – he'd decided to go for a simpler menu of pizza, hot wings, and milkshakes – all things that his friends would never had a chance to try out before.

"Jeeves, is there a Pizza Hut nearby?" he asked, with the chauffeur looking back and nodding.

"Yes, there is, sir," the man replied. "I presume you wish to place an order, since your defenses make delivery service…impossible."

"Indeed," Shinji noted with a wan smile. "You don't mind, do you Jeeves?"

"…of course not, sir."

At this point, Shinji was almost used to the stares he received from people who thought he and Jeeves looked far too overdressed to be in a particular establishment, though not the extra stares that Ilya drew, dressed as she was again in her Santa Dress.

Still, he'd braved the slings and arrows of curious British youth, as he ordered several large pizzas: A BBQ Americano – with smoky BBQ sauce, extra chicken breast, bacon and sweet corn as toppings, a Philly Cheesesteak pizza, which claimed to be the true taste of America, with shaved steak, caramelised onions and green peppers on a creamy base, and a Hawaiian pizza, with traditional toppings of sliced ham and pineapple, each with Pizza Hut's signature pan-baked crust, crispy on the outside and perfectly fluffy inside.

And of course, quite a few milkshakes, an order of hot wings and garlic bread topped with mozzarella and crispy bacon.

Ilya had cheered up slightly as she bit into a slice of Hawaiian pizza and sipped from a strawberry milkshake, though she didn't say anything about what was bothering her. Not that Shinji was surprised – he knew the Einzbern girl could be rather reticent about some things, even if she was quite vocal about most others.

"Ilya, are you sure you don't want to talk about what's bothering you?" he asked, hoping she would open up.

But the girl just shook her head.

"No."

And that was that.

* * *

The party itself was good fun, with Shinji taking some amusement in how the Weasley Twins stepped out of the Floo and stood around gobsmacked by the interior of his house, with Harry raising an eyebrow at the grandeur he saw, and Hillard following along with rather less in the way of shock in his furnishings, as they'd seen his house before, and more at how Luna and Tohsaka were already there.

"And you must be the lovely Tohsaka Rin," Hillard said to the Japanese girl, bowing low, with the girl nodding to him in turn. "Harry was telling me all about you."

"You came by the Burrow, didn't you?" Fred asked, raising an appreciative eyebrow at the girl's attire – which once again featured a miniskirt and thigh-high socks.

"Ronniekins was taken by you," George added. "And Gingin gives you all her regards."

"Miss Tohsaka, wonderful to see you again," Harry added with a winning smile. "I have to say, Shinji. I'm…surprised at how much you spent." _'…especially to buy a house for a girl you aren't dating.'_

"Eh, it was nothing," Shinji responded pleasantly. "Besides, it is a lovely house, wouldn't you agree, Luna?"

"Mm, the bedrooms are certainly nice," the blonde replied absently, causing the other Stone Cutters to turn with a start, each looking at her oddly, as the twins grumbled and turned over a box of Honeydukes' finest chocolate to Harry. "Oh, and the kitchens."

"Luna's been helping me out quite a bit these past few days," Shinji explained, noting the exchange and hoping to pre-empt any unexpected remarks could make things appear exactly what they looked like. "Tohsaka, these are the rest of the Stone Cutters – my comrades in arms. Robert Hillard, George and Fred Weasley, and of course, Harry Potter."

As each was announced, they bowed as one, with Rin curtseying in turn.

"Nisu to meet you," Rin replied. "I am Tohsaka Rin."

"My childhood friend from Fuyuki City," Shinji added with a slight smile. "She's the Second Owner of the land, essentially its hereditary magical governor."

"…huh, interesting," Hillard noted, nodding. "I guess things are run a little differently than in Britain, eh?"

"Most certainly," Harry said quietly, remembering his time in _Mahoutokoro._ "I wouldn't mind going back there, though I'm not sure I'll ever get the chance." He chuckled. "Well, unless Matou is Potions Champion or something. Otherwise…"

…he had too much tying him to this land, with a lover, friends, and others who accepted him for who he was.

"Well, we saw the paper, didn't we, Forge?"

"Yes we did, Gred. Harrikins or wee Matou will shoulder 'the hopes of all Britain.'"

"Either way, it should be interesting," Hillard noted. "You know, back when we all met, I didn't think this outcome was likely. Much less that we'd all be gathered here on New Year's Eve, in Matou's new manor. Speaking of which…here you go."

The Head Boy handed Shinji a sheathed dagger, with the younger Ravenclaw taking it and unsheathing it slightly to reveal a vaguely leaf-shaped blade of gleaming silver-steel, with gently curving edges.

"A knife is always useful in emergencies," Hillard explained. "And this one is enchanted to only be unsheathed by the hands of its owner, unless you specifically unlock it."

"…Goblin forged?" Shinji inquired, sheathing the blade.

"Naturally. In the modern day, their kind knows best the secrets of metal," Hillard replied. "And with the adventures we go on, I thought this might be useful."

Especially since blades of goblin-silver – the equivalent to the mithril of Tolkien or others – could not be easily destroyed, and absorbed the properties of what they slew.

Fred and George handed him a box, with a velvet cased object on top. Curious, Shinji pulled out the object inside to find that it was a mirror bordered by silver runes.

"What's this?"

"A scrying mirror," Fred replied. "We thought you might find it handy."

"And what's in the box?"

"A handmade set of tricks and treats for—"

"—rather nasty sorts," the twins said together.

"Consider it a prototype prank set, based on how we first met, including notes on our very favorites," George added.

"…thanks, guys."

"If you or Harrikins becomes Champion, well…"

"…there is a certain map we won't be needing since we'll be…"

"…at Durmstrang."

Shinji's eyebrows surged up towards his hairline at the sound of this. The Marauder's Map? Now _that_ would be quite useful. Yet another reason to become champion.

And Harry, well, he gave Shinji a globe containing a magical model of the Milky Way, its ebon base inscribed with these words: _To distant worlds and good friends to explore them with._

"Thanks everyone." Shinji said warmly. "Now, why don't I give you all a tour?"

So Shinji showed them around most of the house – though not the basement or his private rooms, receiving his share of "oohs" and "ahhs", "dear Merlins" and "Blimeys!" as they took in the overwhelming opulence of the Matou Estate.

"…alright, I'll give you this one," Harry noted with a smile, nodding. "Didn't expect you to buy the house, but I suppose making Miss Tohsaka happy is worth every penny."

Rin blushed at this, as they continued going around, with Hillard and the twins looking boggled at Shinji's rather large collection of alcohol.

"Hillard, you said you wanted a case of Blishen's Finest, right?" Shinji inquired, with the Head Boy nodding. "Well, you can have a case when you leave."

"…are you sure, Matou?" the Head Boy asked. "It's your stash."

"Freely given, Robert," Shinji replied.

"Then, consider it freely received," Hillard answered. "By the way, do you plan on telling us what kind of garment we needed to get fitted for?"

"We were kind of—"

"—wondering that ourselves."

"…you know, I think I'd rather it be a surprise," Shinji quipped, with the twins shaking their heads."Though I do have a couple of things for you two. I'll give them to you later, before you leave."

A set of boots for one and a set of gloves for the other, as he thought they could use something to help boost their fighting potential a bit.

"I hope they're useful," Fred commented. "Since you were right about the staff."

"This holiday, we saw Hagrid going out into the Forest," George added.

"Oh?"

"He had slabs of meat—"

"—and was headed towards the hollow."

Shinji frowned at this, given that it matched too well with what Tomas had said about the spiders being descended from one of Hagrid's pets. One who the giant apparently still cared for.

' _At least one member of staff is on their side then.'_

"That's troubling, but we suspected someone was involved," Hillard mused aloud. "Though it's hard to say if he's working alone, as he might have a collaborator. We'll have to be careful and focus every moment we can on this."

"Agreed," the other Stone Cutters remarked.

On finishing the tour, the group was introduced to pizza, which the Twins found to be an utter delight – especially the smoky flavors of the BBQ Americano.

"Huh, they don't serve this at Hogwarts, do they?" Harry said softly. "I don't think I've had a pizza…in years, if ever."

"I never knew Muggles made food this good," Fred commented.

"Neither did I, oh brother of mine!"

The hot wings and garlic bread were similarly a delight, as were the milkshakes – rich and cold and creamy, quite a change from the usual pumpkin juice.

Afterwards, they played a few games to pass the time while they talked of the years before, the years to come, and of some of their hopes and dreams.

Shinji had thought about suggesting the King Game, but discarded it as impractical – and unsafe for his dignity, given that his friends were not above hanging mistletoe about and betting on his love life, no matter how well that particular intervention had turned out for him. None of them, sadly, had heard of the muggle game called _Truth or Dare_ , or "I have Never" game, so the boy from the east was forced to use the board game Jeeves had suggested.

…not _Diplomacy_ , the first game the chauffeur had suggested, given that he had known Lords of the Tower to play it, but _Machiavelli_ , a later variant of the game set in Renaissance Italy with added rules for things like bribery, assassinations, and rebellions.

Play was slow at first, with each person claiming a faction and figuring out the basics of the game – how to move their pieces around, how to capture provinces, how each player gained income. Slowly though, as play went on, a bit more treachery and intrigue began, with Matou Shinji and Harry forming a faction against Hillard and the Twins, with Luna and Rin controlling a buffer zone of sorts.

This made them quite valuable, as both sides began paying them off to either remain neutral or come in and help in one dispute or another. In the early game, Matou quickly rose and became powerful, his brutal assault all but eliminating Fred from the board, with Hillard and George forced to take some of Rin's provinces to shore up their defenses as the game progressed, who ceded the remainder to Luna's forces.

Alarmed at the sudden shift in power, the two sides both tried to pay off Luna to keep her provinces out of the fighting, which worked for a time…

…until she used the very money they'd given her to bribe their units to join her side and cripple Hillard and Harry in one fell swoop.

Seeing the change, Matou and George attempted to band together with what remained of their allies to stop her, but it was too late, as the Papal war machine (for Luna played the Papal States in this game) relentlessly crushed the alliance of wizards.

"…and history repeats itself," Shinji groaned, cradling his head in his hands. "Lovely. No hard feelings everyone?"

"…not really, no," Harry said after a minute. "Except that I feel like I just got done having dinner at the Malfoys. That game was a bit…"

"…slimy," the twins chorused.

"Wouldn't mind another round, actually," George added.

"And you had dinner with the Malfoys?" Fred asked.

"Last year. And I don't really want to talk about it," the Boy-Who-Lived commented. "Chief Warlock Malfoy is, well…"

"He's a git is what he is," Fred noted grimly.

"I wouldn't put it like that," Harry demurred. "It was…subtle is the best way I can put it. As for Draco, he isn't bad at home, actually. Invited me to play a round of Quidditch with him, though he seemed disappointed I didn't play."

"We kind of all are," George noted.

"Though part glad too," Fred added. "Your father was a great Chaser, after all!"

"…well, I'm not my father," Harry said quietly.

"No. You're Harry Potter. Our friend and comrade, and that's we really care about," Hillard noted, raising a bottle of butterbeer. "A toast then. To good friends and a good year ahead."

"Hear hear!"

"And here's to not underestimating those we fight with," Shinji added, with the others nodding slowly, remembering what had happened first year.

"I'll drink to that."

The party lasted until about an hour to midnight, when the group began to break up, with Hillard and Harry leaving for the Tonks and Greengrass residences respectively, with the Twins commenting that they just wanted to enjoy a New Year's Kiss, and the Weasleys going to the Burrow, to ring in the New Year with their family.

* * *

Late in the night, in the Room of Requirement, two figures danced to the light of the moon, to a rhythm all their own, the sound of their hearts beating as one keeping time with their steps.

A golden-eyed boy in a deep grey kimono, with a crown of horn-like branches, a filigree of thin vines twined about his limbs, and a cloud of dark prana billowing from his form.

A silver-eyed girl in a midnight blue dress, with pure white ears like those of a fox adorning her head, a fluffy white tail protruding from her derriere, and golden light trailing from her with every movement she made.

Sensually, languidly, daringly, they moved with passion, warmth, and trust, moving not simply on the ground, but on columns of earth that rose to meet their every step, as motes of foxfire swirled around them, so that suspended in the air twixt heaven and earth, their spun through a field of stars.

In part, it was an exercise in coordination and trust while the two lovers worked in fusion form, testing their awareness of the world and each other; partially, both simply wanted to experience the mundane through new eyes and new senses, aware of each other on a deeply intimate level they could not be when simply human; and in part, the two simply wanted to dance.

"I don't like dancing most of the time," Luna commented dreamily as they shifted their steps, their feet leaving the ground entirely and resting on a bounded field she'd spun into being. "But then, it's not much fun, dancing alone. Except maybe in the rain."

"Well, you're not alone," Shinji replied warmly, drawing her close as the patterns of the world became a music of their own, the sounds of life, the echoes of heartbeats, breathing, signs. "Not today, not now."

"Mm," the girl murmured, as the two stepped higher, higher, higher still, spinning in the ever tighter circles, and then by some unspoken signal, started to descend again, with the earth rising up to support them and lower them to the ground. "Something on your mind?"

"…I can't get anything past you, can I?" Shinji asked wryly.

"Not really, no," the girl said quietly, their prana trails mixing together to form a symbol much like yin and yang. "They say it's bad to leave the old year behind with misunderstandings still afoot."

Shinji sighed.

"…I guess I have worries about the year to come," he admitted, pulling her close. "And some regrets about what happened to Hermione."

Mm," Luna commented, tilting her head, as silver eyes bore into gold. "People hurting themselves over misunderstandings is just too cruel, isn't it?"

"…how did you...?"

"Her favorite story was _Romeo and Juliet,"_ the girl whispered. "And the stories we tell ourselves sometimes have a habit of coming true. Even if we deny them, like your dreams."

"…my dreams."

"I see some too," Luna answered, as they moved once more among the stars, as if they were the very sun and moon, her body lithe and warm and supple under his hands.

Full of life, full of passion, full of a joy to simply _be._

"What do you see?" Shinji asked, curious.

"Things that may be. Things that are. A fire. A ghost. A grail," the girl whispered, leaning close to him. "A man felled by his love of a ring. A spider screaming as it turns to dust. Oh, and I see _this_."

With those words, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a sensual, sultry kiss, as the orbs of foxfire around them burst into trails and streams of gold and blue and red as if to ring in a joyous New Year.


	34. Spirited Away

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 34.** _Spirited Away_

The moment Matou Shinji's head hit the pillow, the boy fell into the pattern of a dream.

Tonight though, his dream was peaceful, lacking the visions of blood, steel, and shadows that so often plagued his nighttime reverie, with the boy finding himself walking beside a mysterious figure in black armor along the path to an ancient city.

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, or what city it was, only that for some reason he found the sight of those sun-bleached buildings rising out of the desert sands nostalgic, as if he belonged there.

Around them the wind rose, with chips of mica glistening in the sun like diamond dust, forming a transient halo about the sun illuminating the path.

' _The road to a distant utopia…'_

The name of it was on the tip of his tongue, as was the name of the one next to him, but he couldn't recall it. Not even as the other spoke, and started to turn to him.

"I ask of you. Are you—"

—but whatever would have come next, he did not know, as Matou Shinji was torn from his dreams by the sound of a loudly ringing telephone.

' _Wha…?'_

Not for the first time the boy found himself disoriented, given how jarring the ring tone was compared to the tranquility of the desert, and how dark his room was when the land in his dreams had been drenched with sun, but he shook off the cobwebs on his mind as he picked up the handset.

"Hello?" he asked, suppressing the urge to say something less than polite, given that he was sure whoever was calling him before the sun rose had a good reason. Or at least that was what he told himself so he didn't end up snapping at whoever was on the line.

But there was no one there.

Or so he thought at first anyway, as no one spoke for nearly a minute, but slowly he began to make out the sound of breathing on the other end.

' _Who…?'_

"Hello?" he repeated.

"Makiri…" a voice whispered into his ear. "…can you come?"

"Ilya?" he asked, but the girl on other end said no more, with the line going dead after another minute of silence.

A chill went down his spine as he wondered what was going on, as the Einzbern girl had never sounded quite like this before. And with what had happened to Hermione so fresh on his mind, coupled with his suspicions about what Luna's dreams of a Grail meant, he had no intention of seeing harm befall Ilya – not just for her sake, but also for the sake of averting her family's ire.

Thus the boy headed off at once, taking only what little time he needed to change into something more presentable, as he doubted Ilya wanted to see him in his black silk pajamas.

* * *

When Matou Shinji arrived at the penthouse suite of Illyasviel von Einzbern, he found the door ajar, something that set off alarm bells in his head, as the girl was normally good about keeping her rooms secure, only opening the door once he identified himself.

So what had changed this time?

With a chill, the boy remembered how troubled Ilya had looked over the last few days, and yet how she hadn't been willing to share whatever it was with him. He'd thought they'd gotten close over the last week, but perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps, in splitting his time amongst so many others, he hadn't paid her quite enough attention, hadn't earned enough of her trust.

' _Still, she called me here while it is dark out, so there has to be a reason,'_ he mused. Something that couldn't wait till morning, when the sun's eerie light revealed all the imperfections and flaws of the world, made apparent how impersonal the world could be.

But what?

' _Zelkova, are you there?'_ he asked silently, more to hear the other than anything else, since he could feel the other's presence.

' _Indeed, Master.'_ The _kodama's_ mental voice was as calm as ever. _'You are troubled by the unusual circumstances.'_

'… _I am,'_ Shinji admitted, though he didn't quite know if there was indeed something to be worried about, or if his instincts were just acting up due to how little sleep he'd had. _'You've spent time with Ilya in the last few days. Is there anyone nearby who is not myself or her?'_

' _Not that I can sense.'_

Naturally, the reply didn't do anything to steady the boy's nerves, given that could just mean someone had taken great pains to conceal their prana. Though…

' _Would you like me to share what I see, Master?'_

' _Please.'_

A moment later, his view of the world _changed,_ with the colors of everything around him seeming to fade to grey, save for his own form, which was wreathed in an aura of faintly gleaming blue, and a small orb of blue floating in the air.

'… _is that orb your natural form, Zelkova?'_

' _I do not have a natural form outside of my tree,'_ the other noted. _'Likewise, what I am sharing is a pattern your senses can comprehend, with the prana of allies glowing blue, unknowns red, and that of your quarry in gold.'_

That did sound…remarkably convenient.

' _Thank you.'_

With that, Shinji pushed open the door, tensing – ready to leap aside at the first hint of an ambush. But nothing came. The antechamber was empty both to his eyes and Zelkova's, and the entire first level of the suite was dark and silent as the grave.

Every other time he'd come to the penthouse, the silver-haired girl had been waiting for him, her red eyes lighting up with excitement at the sight of him. But this time, she wasn't there, and without her liveliness and energy filling the space, the rooms felt far too big for comfort.

Far too cold and impersonal, much as he imagined a castle might seem.

…or a trap.

He stretched out his senses, trying to see if there was anything he'd missed. Any sign of movement. Any runes or prepared spells ready to fire? Anything at all.

But there was nothing, and that unnerved him most of all.

…nothing, save a faint trail of golden footsteps, winding its way up along the grand spiral stairs.

Whatever awaited him, good or ill, waited on the floor above, with no more clues of light or sound than there had been in the rooms below.

For several long moments, the boy was tempted to fuse with Zelkova, as in fusion form, a lack of light and sound would be trivial things, given how his mentality and his awareness of the world changed, but he dismissed the notion. If something indeed was planning to ambush him, they would no doubt sense the slight shift in prana from a successful fusion.

So instead, the boy steadied himself, recalling the training Sajyou-san had given him long ago about becoming one with the darkness, as well as Lockhart's training about the art of movement as he let his presence fade.

And when his heart was calm, and his body ready to react, he made his way up the winding stairs, following the trail of footsteps to the door of the girl's bedroom, where he'd half suspected they'd lead.

The door was closed, but through it, he could see a faint human-shaped shimmer of gold, with a thin line of silver moonlight seeping from the crack between door and carpet.

' _Ilya…'_

Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door, and froze at the sight before him.

The shuttered doors to the balcony had been thrown wide open, with a fragile girl in white all but glowing in the light of the silver moon as she recited lines in a tongue he did not understand.

" _Ich weiß nicht, was soll es bedeuten,_

 _Daß ich so traurig bin…"_

She was clad in the gown she'd worn to the gala, a dress as dazzling as it was provocative, woven of white gold, fitted with seven rings representing creation and the soul, accentuated by a red stole with golden etchings that brought out her crimson eyes, and in the light of the moon and the vision of the spirits, her dress, her alabaster skin, and her silver hair shone with an almost holy light.

" _Ein Märchen aus uralten Zeiten,_

 _Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn."_

On the bed lay the Game Boy he'd bought her, the screen frozen on a tableau of a youth drifting at sea – the final scene of _Link's Awakening_ , with the sheets rumpled and tossed aside, but the lights were off. Seeing the girl before him, Shinji stepped forward into the room, as she continued speaking the lines of _Die Lorelei_ , as if unaware of his presence.

Until he came within arm's reach and the girl simply stopped.

"…there's no more time, Makiri," she murmured as he approached. "No more time at all."

"Ilya, what's the matter?" Shinji asked, coming up behind her.

But the girl didn't answer. Instead, sensing his nearness, she simply leaned herself back against him, her back resting flush against his chest, with the boy's arms wrapping themselves around her waist as if to steady her.

She stiffened at the familiarity of his touch, but after a few tense moments, allowed herself to relax, as she continued to gaze out at the river Thames, a haunted expression on her face as if she'd spent the entire night awake staring into an abyss, afraid to look away from whatever was staring back.

For a time, Matou Shinji didn't say anything, afraid that his coarse words might shatter the fey mood.

And neither did Illyasviel. The two simply stood together in the cold winter's night, only the gentle sound of their breathing and the fog of their exhalations betraying the fact that they were beings of flesh and blood, not stone.

Was it a minute they stood there? Five minutes? Ten? An hour?

It was impossible to tell.

But such moments never lasted, and so at last, the silver-haired girl spoke.

"I'm older than you, you know," she said quietly, her voice unsteady. "But I've seen much less of the world." She paused, suppressing a tremble as Matou's arms tightened around her. "All I've ever known is the road I was born to follow, the same road my mother followed to the end. All this..." She halted again, swallowing as she groped for words. "...all this was supposed to be a dream I would have to wake up from. But…but now..." The girl trailed off, shaking her head as she gritted her teeth.

"But now what, Ilya?" Shinji whispered into the girl's ear, as the Einzbern shivered, not entirely from the cold.

"It's time to wake up. I'm supposed to wake up, but…"

"But?"

Illyasviel von Einzbern took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hands balling into fists.

"…I don't want to," she admitted. "I've like I've wandered out onto a precipice, and in the dark below I see something. Another road maybe. Another path. But where it goes, I have no idea. I should go back. I should wake up, but…" It seemed almost like the girl was going to cry, but for the moment she manage to fight back her tears. "Makiri…you offered Kiritsugu's son a choice, what would you say to the girl he threw away? Should she...should I follow the will of those came before and wake up...or should I take a leap of faith?"

"And what do you want to do, Ilya?" Shinji asked.

"I'm asking you because _I don't know."_

"…but you know what you don't want," the boy murmured, almost nuzzling her ear as he said so, all the while holding the Einzbern girl tightly, his fingers tracing small circles on her stomach. "And if you don't want to go back, if you don't want to follow a path that will end only in despair, why not see what the other holds? Why not take a leap of faith?"

His question was met with silence, and for a time Matou Shinji wondered if he had said something wrong, and if his premonition of disaster when he'd walked into the penthouse suite would be realized with his end.

The answer though, didn't come with words. It came as the girl's body relaxed against him, her hands coming to rest on his as she seemed to come to a decision.

"…ok," Ilya said in a small voice. "Come with me, Makiri? At least as far as the precipice. If you don't, I…I don't know if I have the courage to jump."

"Of course, Ilya," the boy answered softly, struck by how fragile she seemed. "I'll go with you and give you strength."

They stayed like that for a while, until finally she shook her head and nodded.

Shortly thereafter, after packing away a few things into her luggage – mostly the things he'd bought for her in London, along with the two snow globes from the gala and a set of rather racy lingerie that seemed rather incongruous with Ilya's innocent appearance – they departed the penthouse for good, with Shinji carrying the suitcase down to the waiting car and Ilya passing Jeeves a note.

When asked what it was, the girl only said that it was the location of "the Precipice."

* * *

They headed north in silence, with the silver-haired girl holding Shinji's hand tightly, her fingers twined with his, as if she was afraid that if she let go, she'd cease to exist, or he would, as if they were both fragments of a dream coming to an end.

"They'll come for you, you know," she uttered as they left the metropolis of London behind, the Rolls Royce Phantom pulling onto the M11 motorway, with shadowy, spindly trees replacing buildings old and new in their sight.

"Hm?" Shinji asked, finding himself distracted by how the fingertips of Ilya's free hand were sliding across the inside of his wrist in a teasing caress.

"The Einzbern," she answered distantly as the car drove on and on. "Grandfather will say that Makiri was treacherous once again, tricking a daughter of the Einzbern as Makiri Zolgen tricked the Winter Saint."

"…tricked?" Shinji didn't know whether to be offended or frightened or merely curious. "Why so?"

"They sent me to see what you wanted, Makiri," the girl explained, leaning against his shoulder, the warmth of her against him a powerful drug indeed. "They told me you were treacherous. That you would try to trick me, as Kiritsugu did mother." She smiled then, a very brittle smile. "I was bait, you see."

"You're not bait, Ilya," the boy responded with a sigh, looking into her crimson eyes with eyes flecked with gold. "You never have been, to me. You're just Ilya. A girl who deserves happiness. A girl who deserves a better hand than you were dealt."

"…treacherous indeed, Makiri," Illyasviel von Einzbern whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. "And yet you are here, not caring that they will try to end you. Are you brave, Makiri? Are you simply foolish?"

She looked away, as if enduring his gaze was a painful ordeal. "…or am I the foolish one to believe your words?"

To Matou Shinji, Ilya's words felt like a daggers being thrust into his side, as he remembered too late why he had brought her here – why he had invited the daughter of the Einzbern to London: to seek reconciliation with his ancestral enemies. And yet, just as she had been entranced by the new world he'd shown her, by the many delights, sensations, experiences, he'd been entranced by _her_ , finding that princess in her castle was a girl who just wanted to be happy.

That even with all the power and privilege of her noble birth, her path was not a happy one.

And so he'd forgotten his purpose. Told her what he thought best for _her,_ not for his purposes. In telling her to see what the other path held, had he not told her to abandon the teachings of her family?

…of course the Einzbern would want his head.

Suddenly, Shinji found himself quite glad he had gotten his Master to agree to install high-level defenses around his house in Britain, given that if they sought him, that might soon become a target – at least if they dared to start a conflict in the city where the Association ruled.

Otherwise, they were likely to simply attack the Matou house in Fuyuki…

' _What will grandfather say?'_ he wondered, hoping the Archmagus would not be…over displeased with him if in fact the cold war between their families went hot.

Again.

"You're not foolish to follow your heart," the boy simply said, with the silver-haired girl turning back to him, looking at him with an odd expression on her face. "And what will be…will be."

Sighing, the girl shook her head.

"…of course you could say that," she murmured, as if realizing something. "You have a powerful patron, after all."

Matou Shinji's response was short and pithy, eloquently capturing his feelings on the matter, and why Ilya was mentioning the Director of Atlas at all.

"Huh?"

At this unexpected reaction, the girl's jaw fell open in shock.

"Makiri. You…you don't know?" she whispered, half-wondering, half-amazed, and utterly terrified. "Then you…all this time…"

"…what?" Shinji asked, confused, knowing there was something important he was missing, but not what.

"You'll see," was all the girl said, as the kilometers passed by, with the car eventually taking them to the VIP terminal of Cambridge International Airport, where a non-descript plane waited for their arrival.

* * *

As he stepped out of the car and helped the Einzbern girl out onto the curb, a rather nervous Matou Shinji thought he was ready for anything, whatever awaited, whatever lay ahead. He took a deep breath and, holding Ilya's hand, moved towards the doors of the terminal – only to freeze as they slid open to reveal a most unexpected sight.

…Sion Eltnam Atlasia in the casual clothing he'd last seen when they'd dined together, her hair streaming in the wind as she emerged from the VIP lounge, with no one else to be seen.

"We meet again, Matou Shinji," the Alchemist intoned, her voice seeming slightly…amused. "But such was not unexpected." And then, her purple eyes shifted to the girl besides the practitioner of witchcraft. "By coming here, you have made your decision, Illyasviel."

"…yes," the homunculus whispered.

Hearing this, everything finally fell into place for Matou Shinji. The other path Ilya had mentioned. The talks Sion had arranged with Ilya, the way the girl had seemed troubled by something she would not – could not – talk about, the way she assumed he knew…

"Atlas. That's where you're going, Ilya…"

"…the Director made me an offer, Makiri, after that first night we danced," the silver-haired girl admitted. "I thought you knew, since you answered as you did. Knowing that you didn't…"

She didn't know whether she was more amazed that Makiri just wanted her to be happy, or terrified that he hadn't thought about himself at all – that his words to her hadn't been part of a well-scripted play, but what he truly felt. That he truly was…warm.

"It surprises you, Illyasviel," the Director of Atlas noted, the barest hint of a smile upon her lips for a moment before it faded away.

"It does, Director," the silver haired girl admitted. "I…"

"You may have a moment to say your goodbyes," Sion allowed. "But then it is time we depart, Vice-Director."

Then she was gone, leaving Ilya and Shinji alone together…

"Makiri…can we dance?" the girl asked quietly, squeezing his hand tightly. "One…last time?"

"…alright."

And so, under the light of the moon, on the curb outside the VIP terminal, the two ancestral foes came together a final time, their bodies moving to a rhythm all their own, saying to each other with their hands, feet, and movements what their lips could never do.

Worries. Insecurities. Pain.

…and hope.

"…will I see you again?" he asked, when their last dance came to an end.

"…maybe," the girl answered, leaning forward against him as he held her close. "I don't know where the path may lead."

"Wherever it goes, I hope you'll be happy."

"…thank you…Makiri," she whispered, inhaling his scent before stepping away – just as the door opened.

And with a last, fleeting look…she was gone.

* * *

The ride back to his manor in London was a quiet one, as his companion Mashu Kyrielite, had little to say. Sion had asked that he give her a ride back to London, noting that the girl who had been her temporary aide knew of his offer of housing, and would likely be happy to accept.

"So you would be fine with working for me?" he asked.

Mashu simply nodded, offering a simple "Hai."

Shinji raised an eyebrow at this, before shaking his head.

"…I'm guessing you're going to be reporting on me to Sion?" he asked dryly, with the girl having a deer in the headlights expression at his query. "…I thought as much."

It was odd, knowing that Sion had trusted him to reply as he did, had known him as well as she had – yet in a way it was comforting. And knowing that she wanted to keep an eye on him…actually made him happy.

He was…glad that he'd answered rightly when the moment came

"…you don't want me then?" Mashu inquired quietly, leaning forward so that her hair hid one of her eyes.

"I didn't say that," Shinji replied kindly. "If Sion wishes to watch over me, that's more than fine. I…just won't always be at the house. You'll probably be looking after my friend Tohsaka, the Second Owner of Fuyuki."

"Mm."

"…just to confirm, you can cook, right?"

Mashu nodded, with Shinji feeling greatly reassured. For if she was able to make a decent meal, then things would probably be ok – at least where Tohsaka was concerned. Otherwise, with her morning cravings, things could be quite bad indeed.

* * *

Given that he would soon be leaving, he set the defenses to a standby state, showed Mashu to her quarters, and made to order food from Hogwarts, since he didn't think there would be time for it on the day.

Tohsaka seemed not to notice though, but this wasn't a surprise as she didn't tend to notice much until her daily request for ' _Food. Coffee. Now'_ was met – this time with a chicken and ham pie with a croquette on the side.

Only afterwards did she go "Ehhh?!" at the new arrival at the table.

"This is Mashu, Tohsaka," Shinji said by way of introduction. "She's going to be helping take care of the house. Oh, and she can speak Japanese."

It made Tohsaka happy to have someone she could speak her native tongue with.

* * *

The rest of the winter holidays went smoothly enough, with Mashu being introduced to Luna during one of her visits, and Shinji turning over some basic provisional access rights to his residents so they could use the defenses if necessary.

But holidays, like all good things, eventually came to an end, and knowing that he had helped Sion with his actions, despite whatever else had happened, it was with a calm mind that Matou Shinji reported back to Hogwarts, ready to face what lay ahead: the politics of the Ourea, the struggle to become Hogwarts Potions Champion, and of course, the challenge of defeating a horde of over half a thousand spiders.

Still, the latter worried him.

Against one at a time - even a handful - victory would be easy enough. Hundreds, however, were a different story, and even with all the preparations they were making, they would need cunning, skill, and most of all, raw endurance. Especially if they wanted to preserve the most valuable parts of the spiders for later sale.

Hopefully Hillard had some ideas…


	35. The Left Hand Path

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 35.** _The Left Hand Path_

It had been exactly one year since the founding of the Ourea, and in that time, the young organization had been involved in quite a few things.

To Hogwarts at large, they were known and envied as a group of leaders and innovators, credited with creating a Self-Defense Club to help the students of Hogwarts practice the more dangerous aspects of their Craft, introducing the sport of Capture the Flag to the school – something which had quickly risen in popularity as those less talented at broom handling sought their fifteen minutes of fame, and helping to put together Hogwarts' productions when the school hadn't had a drama club for nearly fifty years.

Internally of course, things were somewhat less glamorous, given the politics of the ever-shifting factions within the group, the divided loyalties of a number of the members, the historical scenarios each were required to participate in, and of course, the looming specter of the _Kobayashi Maru,_ an oddly-named test of character that every member was required to undergo each year.

A test which they knew almost nothing about, save that its difficulty would be…rather high, and that it would be offered to them sometime this term.

"…and why should you?" Professor Lockhart asked when one of the members – a certain Draco Malfoy – had been a hint too insistent about how not knowing simply wasn't fair. "Especially when you don't complain about Potions Challenges and not knowing what _those_ will be like in advance." The History Professor smiled coldly, seeming to enjoy how the younger blond flinched back from his icy expression. "But I suppose I can tell you one thing: there will be no Dementors involved."

"…or Lethifolds?" Pansy inquired, with the Professor's attention turning to her.

"Or Lethifolds, Miss Parkinson," Lockhart conceded. "The Patronus Charm will not be required for the purposes of the scenario to come." He chuckled. "Not that it was for the first _Kobayashi_ either."

"But…but the Head Boy…"

"Yes, Miss Parkinson, Robert Hillard did demonstrate a fine example of a Patronus Charm," the History Professor noted. "Even so, his victory was only possible because of his bravery, charisma, and his capacity for original thought. In the face of a superior foe, he did the unexpected, acting instead of simply _reacting_." The man sighed and shook his head, his gaze moving from one member of the Ourea to the next, pausing only briefly on the empty seat at Matou's right hand. "In any case, I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here tonight."

"The thought had crossed my mind, sir," Cedric Diggory replied pleasantly. "It's not our usual meeting day, after all."

"True," Lockhart allowed, his crimson and black robes billowing about him dramatically. "Does anyone have a guess? Miss Lovegood?"

"It's been one year," the young Ravenclaw said quietly, with the History professor nodding slowly.

"Indeed. It has been one year since the Ourea was founded. As those who have been members of the organization since the beginning, I thought it would be nice to hold a special session today to celebrate your achievements, and to discuss the possibility of nominating new members."

The dozen students gathered around the table nodded at that, though this piece of information only raised more questions.

Or rather, one question that was on several people's minds.

"In that case, where's Granger?" Cedric asked, noting the empty chair at Matou's right hand – the place where the bushy-haired Ravenclaw normally sat. "Is she late, not feeling well or…?"

"Hermione Granger did not receive a summons to be here."

The Professor's uncharacteristically blunt response stunned most of those gathered, with almost all of the students – save Matou and Lovegood – turning to him in shock, brows furrowed as they tried to work out what exactly had happened.

"But…why?" the Prefect inquired dumbly, wondering why Shinji and the girl at his left hand didn't really seem surprised.

Or well, in Luna's case, more surprised than she usually looked.

"Hermione Granger is no longer a member of the Ourea, having resigned her position as of the beginning of this term," Lockhart supplied helpfully.

To be honest, Matou Shinji had half expected this outcome after Tomas' explanation of what had happened, though it still hurt to know she was going out of her way to avoid him.

Draco just sniffed at this.

"About bloody time, if you ask me," the Slytherin boy commented. "Not much of a leader, that one. Didn't do much in Self-Defense, didn't join Capture the Flag, and never really seemed enthusiastic about anything except Potions." He paused, noting that people were eying him a bit critically and decided he should offer her _something._ "Well. And the stage."

"The stage indeed, Sir Luckless," Lockhart noted coolly, with Draco flinching as he remembered how angry his father had been when Lucius saw the pictures of the performance in the _Daily Prophet,_ specifically those at the end of the performance, where he – in his role as a Muggle Knight – had declared his undying love for the witch Amata – played by Hermione Granger. "As it happens, Miss Granger will be transferring to the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts this fall, with my full recommendation."

"Oh?" Pansy asked, finding this tidbit quite interesting, and making a mental note that if Granger were gone, then her chances of getting closer to Matou looked quite good indeed.

"Indeed, Miss Parkinson," the Professor replied. "I happen to know the Headmaster of W.A.D.A. quite well, and he is always looking for talented wizards and witches to join their ranks." The man smiled jovially. "Miss Granger is such a one, as she is quite good at acting how others wish her to."

"I see."

"In celebration of this, I am producing a new play, scheduled for the end of the year, if any of you are interested in taking part," Lockhart continued. "A play featuring two feuding families, mass conflict in the streets of fair Verona, and a…grave misunderstanding due to the Draught of Living Death. Mister Malfoy, since you've been such a good sport these last two years, I thought I would offer you the role of the male lead, whose name is known through much of the world as a synonym for passion. If not, I suppose I could always offer it to Matou…"

"Ah. That won't be necessary, sir," Draco interjected, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I would love to play the role of…what's the character's name?"

"Romeo, Mister Malfoy. Romeo of the house of Montague."

"Huh. A noble," the blond mused, frowning. "Though Romeo isn't an English name. Is this another translation like the _Epic of Makar Zolgen_?"

"Not precisely," Lockhart replied, the corners of his lips curving into an enigmatic smile. "Though much of the original story does come from Italy, one of the few places on the Continent that lacks a magical government."

"Does it now?" Pansy asked, curious as to why this might be, noting Matou's thoughtful nodding out of the corner of her eye.

' _So…he already knew about this…'_

"Indeed, but that's a story for another time," the History Professor noted, snapping his fingers as platters and bowls laden with food appeared on the table, alongside frothy mugs of butterbeer, pumpkin juice and more. "For the moment, enjoy the evening, talk of what you have done, and by its end, nominate some prospective members for the Ourea – though not too many, if you please, as I would like to keep this gathering an exclusive one."

And with that, he was gone, leaving the others to debate and enjoy.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it was Draco who spoke up first.

"There's another order of business Professor Lockhart didn't mention," the boy drawled, with all eyes turning to him. "The matter of a co-leader for the Ourea."

"…but Neville is our leader," Fay broke in, not liking what the blond was implying. "The one chosen from among us to stand as Matou's equal, that is," she amended. "He's done a good job this year."

"Perhaps," Malfoy allowed graciously. "But Longbottom has also been in office for an entire year. It would only be fair for him to step down and give someone else a chance to lead, since the Ourea is about training people as leaders."

"...you wouldn't be saying that if you'd been elected as leader, Malfoy," the Scottish girl said, a definite edge creeping in her voice as she tensed.

"Of course I would," Draco protested, his hand on his chest as if he'd been stung by the accusation – though no one really bought the act.

Shinji sighed internally, as this squabble was reminding him of the first meeting all over again. He coughed into his fist, bringing his other hand up to call for silence.

"Malfoy has a point," he said, once all eyes were on him, with the Boy from the East somewhat amused to see an expression of shock flicker across Draco's features at his pronouncement. "As members of the Ourea, it is only right for each person to have a chance to lead." His gaze shifted over to Neville, whose head was bowed, as if accepting the inevitable. "Still, Neville has done a good job this year, working behind the scenes to make sure the Self-Defense Club and Capture the Flag League ran well. Wouldn't you agree, Cedric? Pansy?"

"He was rather helpful, yes," Prefect Diggory noted, curious what Matou was up to. "He was quite an example for other Gryffindors. Has been since first year, when he almost won Quirrell's challenge."

"I'll agree with that," Pansy chimed in, getting up and moving to claim the seat beside Matou, as if declaring to the others that in Hermione's absence, it was _she_ who would become the Stone Cutter's right hand – the one he found most useful – and of course signaling her support of whatever he decided. "His was one of the first teams to join the League, actually."

Malfoy, not missing the implications of the girl's actions, _glared_ at the brunette, while Matou looked over at her and nodded, as if Pansy's actions were exactly what he expected of her.

"In light of this, I think it would only be fair if we vote on the position of leader once again – _without_ restricting who is eligible to lead," Shinji offered, with the others nodding thoughtfully at this. "Next year most of us will be at Durmstrang, after all, and it would be good to ensure that we have strong leadership – both for those of us who are there, and for those left behind."

"Mm." Luna Lovegood made a sound of agreement, her silver eyes wide as she looked around, her gaze meeting Ginny's for a moment. "There _will_ only be a few of us still at Hogwarts."

"That is, unless one of us happens to become Potions Champion, or is appointed the Champion's Second – in which case, we could move back and forth," Pansy said meaningfully. Left unspoken of course, was the fact that everyone knew Matou Shinji was one of the two leading candidates for the role of Champion. "However, that's not something we can count on, so in addition to a current leader, it would be good to vote in an...understudy of sorts."

"…that's a good point," Cedric chimed in. "Which means the understudy would have to be either Lovegood or Weasley, as the rest of us will be sent over."

"I think Ginevra would be better," Luna replied simply. She said this for a number of reasons – first and foremost the fact that she was a Stone Cutter, and so in Matou's absence would likely be appointed as nominal head of the Ourea anyway.

Cedric grunted.

"I can live with Weasley as the leader's understudy," the prefect allowed. "Is that fine with you, Matou?"

"It is," Shinji confirmed, steepling his fingers. "And the rest of you?" Seeing no objections, not even from Draco Malfoy, he thought the outcome was clear. "Well then, congratulations are in order, Miss Weasley."

"Thank you," the redhead said from across the table, her cheeks reddening as everyone gave her a bit of polite applause. "I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will," Shinji replied with a winning smile, before turning to the rest of the Ourea. "With the matter of the understudy settled, let us return to the main issue at hand: who to appoint as leader of the Ourea for the following year?"

"Not me," Cedric interjected, much to the surprise of a number of people there. "It's very likely I'll be Head Boy next year, and I know I'll be putting my name in for Tri-Wizard Champion. Between either one of those, I'll be too busy."

"While I'd be interested, I think I may have other commitments myself," Pansy demurred. Especially if her arrangement with Lockhart bore fruit, and resulted in her getting media credentials for one of the Tournaments. "So if another is more qualified…"

"Duly noted," Shinji said agreeably. "Neville, I assume you'd be interested in leading us once more?"

Neville Longbottom inclined his head.

"Yes, Matou. It has been an honor to work with such talented people."

"You've done a good job, Nev," Fay noted, with the co-leader of the Ourea smiling faintly at her words.

"I just helped make sure everyone was able to do what they wanted to do," Neville replied modestly. "It's all of you that impress me. Though no one has impressed me more than the Head Boy yet. His _Kobayashi,_ it _…_ that was brilliant."

"…yes. Yes it was," Shinji said, shaking his head as he thought back to his first year – when he'd studied for a prank war under a young man who had once been a prefect. "Actually, Robert was a lot like you, Longbottom."

"Oh?"

"Someone who wasn't sure he was good enough." The Boy from the East smiled as he recalled those early days, before the encounter with the troll – and then the altercation with Quirrell – changed everything. "Someone who cared about other people's success and well-being more than his own."

"Sounds more like a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw to me," Susan Bones stated, though Shinji just chuckled at the remark.

"We're more than just our houses," the Matou scion replied. "Even if that's easy to forget at Hogwarts, with interhouse rivalries dividing us. Whether we're part of Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, that doesn't really matter. We're students at Hogwarts – and more, we're Ourea. We're the leaders people look up to."

"Well said," Cedric observed, nodding in agreement. "You make a good point, Matou, one I'll keep in mind next year when – if – I become Head Boy."

"See that you do," Shinji noted. The two shared a look of acknowledgement, before returning to the topic at hand. "In any case, is there anyone here who thinks someone other than Neville should lead us next year?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Shinji saw Draco's hand go up, though as the blond looked around, seeing that no one was agreeing with him, the Slytherin lowered his hand and crossed his arms grumpily.

"Seeing none, congratulations Neville," the Matou scion commented, nodding to the Gryffindor. "It appears we'll be working together again this year."

"So it seems," Neville demurred, stunned by the show of support – or at least at the lack of opposition. "Nominations, then?"

"Nominations, indeed," Shinji said, running over the possible candidates in his head. "Did anyone have suggestions? Cedric? Pansy? I assume you have some ideas, given your involvement with self-defense and Capture the Flag."

"I have two nominations, actually," Pansy noted. "Non-Ourea team captains who have done well in Capture the Flag."

"Who?"

"Anthony Goldstein is the first. He's done a good job leading Team Snorkack all the way to the top of the league," the Slytherin girl answered with some amusement. "Not an easy thing, since everyone likes to dethrone a champion."

"And the second?"

"…well, Ronald Weasley, actually," Pansy remarked, her lips quirking into a smirk.

"Merlin, no. You must be barking!" Draco thundered, rising to his feet with a look of shock and betrayal as the girl said Weasley's name. _"Him?_ Goldstein fine, but… _Weasley?"_

"Hey, that's my brother you're talking about!" Ginny interjected, standing herself as she glared at Draco. "He may be a right arse sometimes, but—"

"—but what, Weasley? Are you really going to defend someone who was so starved for attention that he _lied_ about fighting off Sirius Black?"

"L—what makes you think he lied?!" Ginny demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "He's not some bloody Snake, unlike your father!"

"Bringing my father into it, Weasley? Do you really have nothing better to say than to imply all Slytherins are liars?" Draco growled, glancing over at Pansy. "I'm sure Parkinson here would appreciate it after she nominated your…brother."

Ginny looked down, abashed.

"I…"

"Besides, if he'd done what he claimed, wouldn't he be a Stone Cutter now?" the blond boy sneered. "But no, he's not. Matou didn't even nominate him to join the Ourea last year. So what does that tell you? I'll tell you what it means, even if you don't want to listen. It means he lied."

Ginny's wand was in her hand, the tip level with Malfoy's face.

"Take that back," she bit out, the look on her face one of pure loathing of Malfoy and everything he stood for.

"Or what?" Draco asked, his expression almost daring her to do it. "You'll hex me, in front of the Ourea? You, the so-called understudy of our dear leader? You don't have the—"

" _Enough."_ A voice spoke out, interrupting them as Ginny's wand flew out of her hand…into one of Luna Lovegood's, whose silver eyes seemed no longer surprised, but disappointed. "This is unbecoming of you. Both of you." The unexpectedness of the reprimand hit both Draco and Ginny like a slap, with the two flinching at her words…and at the observation that she hadn't drawn a wand.

"…wandless, nonverbal magic?" Draco whispered, sounding almost horrified. "As a second year? But how is that…?" He trailed off, noting the boy she always sat next to – the Stone Cutter, Matou Shinji, one of whose claims to fame was something very much like that. "…so _that's_ how it is," he muttered bitterly, shaking his head. "It wasn't Granger after all…"

"Malfoy. Ginevra. Would you kindly sit down?"

As if she'd said some irresistible word of command, the two sat, eying her warily as if she'd revealed herself to be someone – something – dangerous. Even Shinji didn't think he'd ever heard Luna sound quite so intimidating before, even when she was in fusion form, as she was usually more playful.

"I have some personal reservations about Ronald myself, but I am willing to give him a chance," Shinji admitted, keeping a smile plastered on his face with some measure of strain. Things didn't usually get this heated during a meeting, but then, this wasn't an ordinary meeting. "Here's what I propose: we will test him with the _Kobayashi Maru,_ and if he performs well, we will accept him."

"…is that really fair?" Cedric questioned, frowning. "The _Kobayashi_ is…it is something almost anyone can fail. That most of us did fail last year, despite the benefit of our training."

"I meant this year's scenario, which none of us have faced yet," the Matou scion corrected. "And as for his performance, I meant relative to the rest of us."

"Ah. So it's no whether he beats the 'no win scenario'…"

"…but what he does during it, yes," Shinji commented, shaking his head. "I'm beginning to see why Lockhart likes these sorts of things."

"I'd find that scary if…I didn't understand what you meant," Cedric noted with a dry chuckle. Cho shot him a strange look, but just shrugged. Sometimes, one just had to smile and nod after all. "I do wonder what Lockhart will be throwing at us this time."

Neville coughed for attention.

"I think it should be fine to give Ron a test, since I have some concerns myself," the co-leader of the Ourea affirmed. "Any objections?" No one spoke up. "Right, and none to Goldstein joining us?" Again, no one spoke. "Ok then. Any other nominations?"

"I have one, actually," Shinji said.

"Oh?" Daphne questioned, speaking up for the first time that evening. "Su Li, I imagine?"

The Boy from the East raised a slim eyebrow as the girl pre-empted him.

"…why Greengrass, however did you guess?"

"She, like Granger, worked with you fairly regularly in Potions," the other Slytherin girl noted. "And if Granger has left the Ourea, I assumed you'd wanted a Ravenclaw, for balance…"

"Very astute," Shinji observed.

"Pays to be, in Slytherin," Daphne said simply.

"So I imagine."

"I have no qualms with Su, but I'm concerned about what happens after most of us leave for Durmstrang."

"Oh?"

"We'll have two members – Lovegood and Weasley. I'll vote to accept Su Li if you agree with inducting the Carrow Twins, Hestia and Flora. They're first years, but they have a good deal of potential."

"Two nominees to his one," Cedric noted. "Interesting."

"I don't ask that it be an immediate induction," Daphne commented, her lips quirking into a smile. "It can be delayed until the fall term."

Shinji thought about her words and nodded, as they made a good bit of sense.

"Presuming I agree, we're moving onto fall nominations then?" he asked, with Daphne nodding. "I suppose Lockhart won't have any complaints – however many we nominate for next year will be a small number compared to us."

"I think it's fair," Neville spoke up. "Provided we all get a chance to nominate others as well. Like our original group, it should have people of every house."

"Agreed," Cedric said. "While we are one group, it would be dangerous to let any one house dominate too much. I don't mind Su Li, but yes, let's talk of the fall nominees."

"There's a second year called Anthony Otterburn," Fay suggested after a moment. "He's usually in the greenhouses and is very good with Herbology. I think he's a Hufflepuff."

"Anthony? I know him," Diggory commented, surprised someone had suggested the boy. "Sprout likes him – was thinking about having him help out since he likes plants so much. I never…well, maybe."

"I think he'd be a good fit," Neville added. "People look down on Herbology, but I wouldn't have done so well in Quirrell's challenge without it."

"…so you've said before," Fay noted gently. "That's why I thought of him, because he reminds me of you."

Neville Longbottom went red as a tomato, as he didn't know quite what to say about that.

"If we're nominating people from different houses, then how about Colin Creevey?" Luna asked quietly. "He was always good at seeing the big picture. But then, most of Team Snorkack is."

"Colin? You mean the boy who takes pictures?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. He's quite good at it, too," the Ravenclaw girl said warmly, with Shinji feeling slightly irritated that she was praising another male for some reason. "Oh, and there's Heather Barnaby, too, a Hufflepuff."

"…you're just nominating your Flag team now," Pansy Parkinson commented, knowing full well who was on which team.

"They do keep up with people older and more experienced, don't they?" Luna asked.

"True enough," the head of the League conceded. "I don't deny that they deserve it, but I think that's probably enough. So, up for a vote: Su Li and Anthony Goldstein, with Ron Weasley a provisional nominee, to be confirmed based on his _Kobayashi_ _Maru_ performance. All in favor?"

Pretty much everyone raised their hands.

"Any opposed?"

Draco objected, of course, stating concerns about Ron Weasley, but aside from that, the others were fine.

"And for the fall term nominees: the Carrow Twins from Slytherin, Colin Creevy from Gryffindor, Anthony Otterburn and Heather Barnaby from Hufflepuff. All in favor of accepting these as is?"

This time, the result was indeed unanimous, as Draco had no axe to grind with any of these people, even if he didn't think Hufflepuffs were particularly deserving.

"Very well, it seems our business is concluded, Matou," the girl noted with a sly smile. "Shall we all enjoy ourselves then, as Lockhart suggested?"

And so they did, with Luna returning Ginny's wand to her, and the group moving on to speak of their thoughts on the year behind them, the year ahead, and what wonders might await in Durmstrang.

"I almost went there instead of Hogwarts actually," Draco said airily at one point. "They do have a better grasp of the Dark Arts, after all."

"Why didn't you go?" Cho asked, somewhat curious as to why the boy had chosen to stay in Britain.

"…mother didn't want me going so far from home," he admitted sheepishly. "Though, I guess I get to go there anyway, so…" He turned to Shinji and Cedric, somewhat grudgingly. "Thank you."

"No need," Shinji replied with an odd-seeming smile. "After all, it was the right thing to do."

"Speaking of Durmstrang," Cedric broke in. "Any ideas about how we're going to get there? I assume the Ministry will want our delegation to make quite an entrance."

"Mm, a flying ship would be nice," Luna suggested. "Or a fleet, sailing through the sky, soaring before the northern lights."

"…I might be wrong, Lovegood, but I think something like that would probably violate the Statute of Secrecy. In about a dozen ways," Cho noted. "Who knows – maybe they'll make something like Stonehenge and use it as a great gate."

"I suppose that's doable," Shinji allowed, remembering the portals Matsuo-san set up in _Mahoutokoro_. "But if it was in the open like that, wouldn't that also violate the Statute of Secrecy."

"…I didn't think about that," Cho admitted, glancing at the boy speculatively. "I don't suppose you would know, being a Stone Cutter and all?"

Shinji just laughed.

"Frankly, Miss Chang, your guess is as good as mine."


	36. Threat and Temptation

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 36.** _Threat and Temptation_

The din of combat filled the air as two figures strove mightily against one another, a flight of miniature dragons created by _Draconifors_ meeting a flurry of _ofuda,_ with spells batted aside in mid-air not by a shield, but by a gloved hand.

' _He's quick!'_ Shinji thought as he faced his opponent, Fred Weasley, wondering where the other twin was, since it was supposed to be a 2 on 1 duel, and losing track of the other was dangerous.

…as was evinced when a shout of _**Incarcerous**_ came from the seemingly empty air behind him, an unseen force knocking Matou to the ground, with thick cords appearing around his body to bind him tight.

Only for a dark fog to seep out of Matou's form, dissolving away the rope as if it had never been, as the boy recovered to his feet, his grey eyes glinting with a golden light.

"…a vanishing spell? You shouldn't know a fifth year transfiguration spell!" Fred asked, narrowing his eyes as he launched an orb of green lightning at the boy – noting with interest how Shinji didn't raise a shield to block it, but instead caught it with his hand…and turned, tossing the orb at what seemed an empty corner of the room, where it exploded on contact with a hastily raised shield spell – momentarily revealing the location of the disillusioned George."

"Untransfiguration, actually," the Matou scion grunted.

After all, conjuration was a form of transfiguration that creating an object from thin air…which meant that one didn't need a vanishing spell to erase it. One simply needed to revert it the conjured object to its original form: thin air.

With a frown, Fred snapped his fingers, with a horde of miniature dragons swarming forward, dozens upon dozens of bright green menaces that moved to attack the enemy before them, their fiery breath issuing forth to burn away any _ofuda_ Matou might send against them… _except that he sent none at all._

Instead, an orb of darkness issued from his wand, flying into the center of the swarm and _detonating_ in a wave of shadow that engulfed them all, reverting the miniature dragons to what they had been before Fred's transfigurations - harmless paper airplanes that fluttered to the floor.

Fred took a step back in shock as he saw this, with Shinji pressing his momentary advantage with a silent stunning spell – though the smile faded as the crimson spellbeam was deflected by one of equal force from another corner of the room.

"You two know…spell fencing?" he asked warily, as the two moved to circle one another, with Shinji trying to keep the invisible George in his view – though he didn't really see George as much as a human-shaped form of red.

"Quirrell may have been a right arse," Fred quipped, launching a barrage of silent disarming spells, "but that doesn't mean, we can't use his techniques."

Cursing at the sudden onslaught, Shinji was forced to deflect them with a Shield Charm, while he commanded his _ofuda_ to seek out the other – invisible – twin and bind him, only for his wand to fly out of his hand as he was hit by a disarming spell from behind.

"Huzzah!" Fred said, a smile creeping over his face as he used a whirlwind of force to knock the _ofuda_ going after his brother to the ground, with Shinji's cherry wand describing a delicate arc through the air, and vanishing as it was plucked away by an unseen hand. "Your wand is gone, Matou, and so your main defense. Do you yield?"

But Shinji only chuckled, with the visible twin's expression going flat as the Matou scion produced a second wand – his wand of hazel and coral.

"I think…not!" the Ravenclaw replied, launching a small orb of _ofuda_ into the air before him – one that _detonated_ in an incandescent blaze of light and sound that blinded and deafened those combatants who weren't ready for it.

 _Whump-boom!_

…naturally, this meant everyone but Matou Shinji, of course.

He wouldn't lose this battle. Couldn't afford to lose, since the Twins had agreed to help him out in Potions – but only if he managed to beat them in a battle in which they were going all out. After all, they were quite curious as to how he'd been named one of the two Champion candidates without going to the Potions Boot Camp at all – and all the more so when he had mentioned that his candidacy was based mostly on his skill at scavenging and combat.

"Well then," George had said after some minutes. "I think a test is in order, don't you, brother of mine?"

Shinji had been instantly on his guard.

"A test, you say?" the boy had replied, looking between the twins – one of which wore the enchanted gloves Shinji had passed along, with the other wearing the enchanted boots. He'd thought it only fair to give them his extras at the time, since Touko was giving him a new set of enchanted clothing, but he'd never anticipated that they'd turn them against _him._ "What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing complex," Fred had noted.

"Not a potions challenge, certainly," George had added, with the two looking at each other and nodding once.

"Combat."

The Twins had chorused that together, with Shinji feeling more than a little on edge. On a one-on-one basis, he could probably beat them, but…

"Against both of us," Fred had added.

"At once," George supplied.

—two on one was a different story, given that that meant he'd have to split his attention between them.

"What are your conditions?" he'd asked warily.

"Beat us," the two had said at once.

"By which we mean that both of us must be incapacitated or made to yield," Fred had clarified.

"Best us, and we will help you with Potions—"

"—in return for a favor," the two had concluded together, eying the boy to see what his response would be.

"Agreed," Shinji had found himself saying.

Aside from the twins, he had precious few options for really boosting his potential in both combat and Potions. Pansy, of course, had been hinting – and none too subtly at that – that she'd be willing to aid him with the Competition, giving him information from Boot Camp and such, with the caveat that if he accepted her offer, he would have to appoint her his Second.

Harry wasn't an option, since the Boy-Who-Lived was his rival for the position of Champion, with the Heir of Slytherin having his own reasons for competing: something that drove him beyond a simple desire for fame or glory. Shinji knew full well that Harry wished to live up to the expectations of everyone around him, to become the hero they saw him as, and that he saw this competition as one step towards that.

He even respected it as a motivation – but that didn't mean he'd let his friend have the spot. Not when the Director of Atlas herself had expressed an interest in him being part of the Potions Championship, given its location on an ancient floating isle and such.

Above anyone else in this world, Matou Shinji was loyal to Sion Eltnam Atlasia, so if she had a wish, he would surely work to grant it – even if it set him against Harry. For surely, the Boy-Who-Lived would have other opportunities to prove himself.

Shinji had the one, and he wasn't about to squander it.

Hence he had approached the twins, instead of Pansy or Su Li, both of whom would gladly work with him, but would only boost his skill by so far.

…which brought him back to the present, where he was dueling the two of them.

Alone.

With the momentary advantage his flashbang had bought him, Matou Shinji felled Fred Weasley with a Stunning Spell, a halo of red blossoming around the older Gryffindor's form as the twin was caught flat footed, his form crumpling bonelessly to the ground.

He turned to do the same to the invisible – but presumably stunned – George, only to see a jet of crimson light coming straight for his face. Shinji ducked to avoid it, but couldn't avoid the followup of _Flipendo Tria_ , a whirlwind of force that knocked him flat, with a second Disarming Charm catching him in mid-flight, his second wand flying from of his hands into that of his invisible opponent as he was flung into a corner of the room, his head ringing.

As he struggled to get back to his feet, the Matou scion sent a wave of explosive _ofuda_ outwards, attempting to buy himself some time, but as it so happened, George wasn't pressing his attack anyway, with Shinji stifling a muffled curse as he heard the word _**Rennervate.**_

'… _t_ _he Reviving spell. Which means Fred is back in action.'_

So it proved, as the older teen surged to his feet, a wave of fire poured forth from his wand, incinerating the ofuda while with a cry of " _Draconifors_ ", the paper airplanes that had fluttered to the floor earlier became miniature dragons once more, taking flight and adding their fire to Fred's.

"You fought well, Matou," Fred commented, eying the young Ravenclaw who had been quite literally backed into a corner. "But this is it. Your wands are gone. Your surprises are spent. Your _ofuda_ are useless against our small army of dragons. And both of us remain. Yield."

"…no," Shinji growled out, his eyes flashing gold in the dim light of the tower. "Not while I'm still… _here!"_

"Heh, to the last, is it?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow. "As you wish, Matou!"

With a gesture, the dragons surged forward once more, rushing towards the stricken form of Matou Shinji, who simply closed his eyes, as if accepting his end.

As they came, his sense of self faded. His anger, his defiance, his bravado faded. Everything faded except what lay before him – the desire to reject this end. They were many and he was one. They had trained to fight a superior foe, but their tactics in the end were only human. Holding back, he could not beat them, for they weren't – they knew how he fought.

They knew most of his tricks.

They had tricks of their own, made to counter his – as they had seen the ones Harry used – hence they had fought to disarm him, not to stun him, as they knew his _ofuda_ would simply revive him.

He could not defeat them with wand and _ofuda_. But he could imagine what could, as he opened the door to the world beyond, the door behind which lay everything and nothing and every possibility between.

In that moment, there was no Matou Shinji. There was no world.

All was one.

He returned to awareness as the miniature dragons swarmed over him, screaming in confusion as their raking claws proved useless against flesh hard and unyielding as stone itself. He could feel the room, the tower, everything around him. The flow of prana in the air, where both of the twins were, and more.

The stone of Hogwarts. The iron in the blood of those around him. The wood in their wands. The spells they were preparing. All of these _sang_ to him, leaving nothing concealed from his sight.

From his body, spikes of earth shot out, impaling each of the miniature dragons that crowded around him, their forms going ashen grey and crumbling to dust in an instant.

In the distance, the one named Fred went pale at the sight. Petrification magic was…was a high level Dark Art. A spell only the most powerful of Dark Wizards could accomplish in the histories.

"But Matou isn't…?" he breathed in confusion. "How is this even…?" But he steadied himself. He was not a Stone Cutter for nothing, after all, even if what he was seeing was not something he'd ever expected to encounter. And he had one more trick to play. "George, now!"

Fred Weasley gripped his wand tightly as he loosed spell after spell upon Matou's changed form, wondering what magic he had wrought to utterly transform himself, as even his clothing was different, and the younger boy seemed _dangerous_ on a level he had never appeared before.

" _Flipendo!_ _Stupefy!_ _Immobulus_!"

All these and more he cast, coruscating beams of color and might streaking towards Matou Shinji, who did not even bother to block as he advanced, with the spells splintering upon his skin and fading. For in his fusion form, Matou Shinji was closer to an elemental than a human, and to such a being, wand spells were an inferior mystery.

"… _spell resistance?"_

Fred swallowed, crying out "Avis!" over and over, as an unending stream of birds shot from the tip of his wand, heading unerringly towards the advancing Ravenclaw's eyes.

' _Maybe I can't stop him. But I can slow him down…'_

Not for long though, for as the birds came close to Matou, they were wiped from reality by a shimmering field of power that forbade their existence – a bounded field that reverted transfigured things to their natural state.

Fred Weasley had only a moment to process what had just happened before he lost consciousness, his wand snatched from his hand by an unseen force.

And in that moment…

Light flared as George completed what he had been working on – a runic array carved into the stone of the Tower for a single purpose: to bind the human named Matou Shinji.

They had anticipated he would have odd tricks, much as Harry Potter or Robert Hillard did, and in the event such a thing proved overwhelming, they had created a powerful binding to trap him, though there was no magic poured into the runes to prevent him from sensing or seeing them. There was no sense not using every advantage possible, after all, not when they were the ones who had prepared the battlefield in advance.

As long as he was still human – or reasonably close – the binding would succeed, and with Matou Shinji rendered helpless, the match would be over.

Under the cover of an Invisibility cloak, George Weasley stamped his foot, pouring the final bit of magic he needed into the ground, with runes blazing into existence one after another across the entire surface of the room to stop Matou and hold him fast.

…but Matou Shinji did not stop.

' _What…but the array…it's active, so why…?'_

Yes. The array which he had inscribed and activated would surely have bound Matou Shinji - as long as the younger boy was human.

But in fusion form, the young Ravenclaw was not, in fact, human, a fact proven by how he advanced through the field of runes unhindered, heading inexorably towards George's location.

" _Fizzle_ ," the other intoned, with a haze of shadows rising from the ground and consuming the light of the runes, the energy within them stolen away by a superior force. " _Bind."_

George prepared for an onslaught of _ofuda_ , for whatever was to come, but none came. His body simply stiffened as prana seeped into it from the many talismans that had been scattered all over the floor from a previous altercation, the shadows all about him congealing into lines and whorls, like ropes that froze as they touched their target.

"User of Witchcraft, I bind you."

The shadows rose, the freezing sensation of their touch stealing the sensation from his arms and legs, his wand slipping from his hand as he felt nothing at all. No pain, no shock, just _nothing_. And that was the greatest horror of all.

"Sons of Arthur and Molly Weasley, I bind you."

George tried to speak, to say something, but could not, as the chill stole over his throat, his chin, his face, leaving him helpless.

"George and Fred Weasley… _I bind you_."

And then it was complete, the ropes of power sinking into him and leaving him – and his brother – motionless as stone, bound not simply by intention and prana, but by knowledge of their nature, their lineage, their names.

…it was ironic in a way, given that this was very much what the Twins had tried to do to Matou Shinji, save that they had not accounted for an unexpected variable in their calculations.

His familiar.

In their minds, a familiar was simply a pet, after all. Even if they'd heard things about creatures from the east being able to transform and use magic of their own, to them, familiars didn't take part in combat – and to be fair, most British familiars, with the exception of beasts like the Basilisk of Slytherin or Albus Dumbledore's phoenix, were rather useless on the battlefield.

They'd hadn't seen Shinji with his fox familiar during the fight - but even if they had, they would have dismissed it as a threat. A fox was simply a fox - a cute, fluffy thing that might be nice to pet, but wouldn't be much good in combat, no? True, they knew things were different in the East, but it hadn't even crossed their minds that here in Britain, Shinji's familiar might play a role.

Such were the ingrained prejudices of Wizarding Britain.

"This battle is over," Shinji announced, his voice echoing in the now silent chamber. "And I have won."

After collecting their wands – and his – he released them from their bindings, and revived Fred Weasley, with the Twins looking at his new form with a wary sense of respect and fear, given what they'd seen him do – and his odd appearance, with his grey robes and his crown of branches.

"What is…?"

"This is called fusion," Matou Shinji explained, his golden eyes looking upon the Twins with an almost gentle regard. "One of the greatest techniques of wizardkind, long forgotten by the West, created by the combination of a nature spirit with one of our kind."

"…a nature spirit?"

"Like a _kitsune_ ," the boy noted, with George feeling more than a little unnerved at how calm the boy sounded, as if they had not just fought each other, had not hurled powerful spells at each other – as if Shinji had not just used that powerful binding on him, stealing away not just his ability to move but his ability to sense anything at all but sound. "Or some other _youkai._ But you don't have many such spirits in Britain. _"_

"…no. We don't," Fred admitted, taking a deep breath as he shook his head. "Fair's fair, I suppose. You've beaten us, so we'll help you."

"We actually didn't expect you to win," George stated bluntly. "Especially since we'd devised this strategy to counter powerful opponents like Hillard or Harry. One Twin holding an opponent's attention with charms and more showy transfiguration abilities, while the other attacked from behind, set up a runic binding and more."

"To be honest, we weren't sure you knew what you were asking for," Fred added, shaking his head. "Asking for our help in Potions meant that you wanted us to train you to beat Harry, after all. And given that he's Snape's prize pupil, there's not much hope of beating him in brewing. So you'd have to be able to beat him on the field, more than just matching him."

"I don't think that will be a problem, do you?" Shinji inquired solicitously, with both of the twins shaking their heads.

"No—"

"—we don't—"

"—think so."

"Good," Matou Shinji noted, releasing the fusion and reverting back to his normal form, with Zelkova perched upon his shoulder. "I rather hoped not."

"Merlin's bloody balls…" George whispered. "So what…this is like an Eastern Animagus transformation?"

"You could say that," the Ravenclaw said. It was not dissimilar, he supposed… "But you'd need a familiar to pull it off. A powerful one, not something you'd get in a pet store."

"Ah," the twins chorused as one. "Then we know our favor."

"Yes?" Shinji asked, wondering what it would be.

"We want familiars," they noted.

"That form of yours…it's…wicked."

Shinji smiled slightly.

"Agreed."

He just hoped Matsuo-san wouldn't mind visitors in the summer.

"…so…can Lovegood use fusion too?" Fred said slowly, remembering that Luna had accompanied Shinji to Japan and had gotten a fox, much like he had.

"…she usually beats me when using it," the boy admitted, with Fred stunned into silence by the boy's frank statement.

"Remind me not to make her angry," George quipped after a beat, thinking that if Luna could beat Shinji at his full power, then the girl was liable to be rather scary indeed.

And well, she was, given that in fusion form, she could - and did - use walls of razor wind, swirling fireballs that consumed spells, and more, in addition to things like basic spell resistance, limited flight, and invisibility, with a viciousness and power belied by her cute appearance.

"I'll second that, brother of mine," Fred added fervently. "I'll second that."

* * *

Later that evening, Shinji found himself talking with Robert Hillard, the strategist of the Stone Cutters, as well as the others, about their plans for the spiders. By the end of the week, the equipment he had commissioned – the wyvernhide armor and such – would finally be complete, and he wanted to know what the Head Boy had come up with.

"First off, we'll need to spend a great deal of time drilling ourselves for the attack," Hillard noted. "And of course, we'll have to get buy-in from a teacher, given that someone should know where we are. Probably Lockhart, given that he probably knows a thing or two about fighting spiders. Though…"

"Yes, Robert?"

"…it's just that there are so many of them," the Head Boy said, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he examined a battle map of the hollow and surrounding areas. "True, they're hibernating now, but once we begin, I'm sure they'll wake up."

"We'll be able to eliminate a few first, right?" Harry asked.

"A few is not the problem," Hillard responded bluntly. "I understand we've been successful in our engagements against the spiders to date, but we've also only fought a few at a time. I'm concerned that against the numbers we're looking at, we're going to be worn down at the very _least_. There is nothing more tiring than battle, Moody tells me, and I for one believe him."

"Well, how about getting some outside help?" Shinji broke in, with the others turning to him.

"What do you mean?" Fred asked.

"Do you mean the Ourea?" George added.

"Not exactly," the Matou scion responded. "I mean Lockhart. He is said to be the greatest adventurer in all of Britain, after all, and I'm sure he may have dealt with a situation similar to this. Acromantulae are used to guard treasures, after all."

…that and he was reasonably certain that Lockhart was part of the Order of Assassins, and they were quite good at killing things, if nothing else.

"I had considered that," Hillard remarked. "Though I'm a little concerned about what he might want in return, if actually comes with us. There's the risk he'll claim the lion's share of the wealth when we do the work, after all. Also, I'm not sure I want to reveal all of our abilities to him. While he's been a useful ally, I'm not sure how much I trust him."

"That's true," Shinji admitted. There were times that the man disturbed him a fair bit as well. "Though I don't think him knowing what we're capable of is something to worry about for now. Let's concentrate on one threat at a time."

"True," Harry conceded. "Why don't you start with asking him for advice? I don't know what to believe about Hagrid. I don't think he'd intentionally do something wrong, but…"

"It doesn't matter what he meant," Fred said quietly.

"Just what he did," George chimed in.

"Those spiders could very well kill someone," the twins chorused, disgruntled. "Explains why he would never let us into the Forbidden Forest though. Protecting his secrets, no doubt."

"It's concerning, I agree," Shinji noted. "I'll ask Lockhart, but you have to remember the man is very perceptive. It is…very hard to hide things from him. And…I remember first year. I don't want that to happen again because we overestimated ourselves. Our secrets are important, but…"

"Not as important as our lives," Hillard finished. "It's true. Still, there are some things we can probably keep back, like any absolute trumps. Being perfectly honest, most of what we do is common knowledge anyway – that you can use _ofuda_ , that Harry is advanced in Defense, that I can do the Patronus, that the Twins are good at Runes and setting traps, and that Luna is good at unusual strategy. I assume the design of whatever protective garment you are commissioning came from him?"

"…indeed," Shinji confirmed.

"Interesting. Tell me, is there anything else you know about Lockhart?" the Head Boy asked. "When you talk about him, there's something in your tone that implies he's more than an adventurer. Especially when you mention what he's been training you in."

Matou Shinji was silent for a moment as he considered what to say. From what Sion had told him, it was likely Lockhart was an Assassin, but he hadn't ever confirmed that – nor did he think it was safe to really look into.

"There might be something," he admitted reluctantly, frowning as he spoke. "I've seen hints here and there, but I haven't confirmed it, and frankly, I don't think it would be safe to look into. I don't think he's a dark wizard, mind you, just that he's a dangerous man in a number of ways."

The words of Tomas, that there would be precious little evil done in the world if evil could never be done in the name of good, echoed in his mind, reminding him of the dreams he sometimes suffered from, and the future he found so very uncertain.

"…I'd figured that much out myself," Hillard grunted, shaking his head. "But since you insist, I'll leave it at that for now. For now, here's what I have in mind. Matou, you and the Twins are the best at Runes among us. I want you to scout the perimeter around the hollow while they're asleep, erecting a runic array if possible to keep the spiders inside. We don't want any escaping."

"Mm, it doesn't matter how strong we are if they run away," Luna said distantly, speaking up for the first time that meeting.

"Indeed," Hillard said, smiling slightly. "So while they're hibernating, I want us to make preparations. We needed a shielded rest area we can retreat to if necessary, as well as a boundary."

"Understood," the Twins chorused.

"Harry. I'll need you to brew us quite a few potions. Stamina potions, healing potions, and the like. You can have others help out – say it's for a project we're working on."

"…and it wouldn't even be a lie," Harry noted with a faint smile. "Alright."

"Luna, I want more details about how many spiders there are, of what size, what the hollow looks like exactly, and such. Get Matou to help you out."

"Mm. Ok."

"Since I am collaborating with Lockhart on creating this year's _Kobayashi Maru_ exercise, I'll have access to the _Book of Spells_ , and will be using it to create a scenario for us to practice, based on Luna's information. Every evening you're not busy with something else, I expect you to be practicing your abilities, sparring each other, and working with each other on your assignments. We have a lot to get done in a couple of months, and we need to know each other's abilities inside and out if we want a chance of victory."

"Understood," the others said, each one looking at Hillard with determination in their eyes.

"Good. You all make me proud to be a Stone Cutter. Let's just hope this adventure goes a wee bit better than last time, eh?"

"…so I hope," Harry murmured distantly, looking at the empty chair - the one representing the presence of the one who'd fought with them in their first year, but who was no longer among them - the late Sialim Sokaris. "So I hope."

"Speaking of adventures…I don't suppose you could give any hints as far as what you're making for the _Kobayashi_?" Shinji asked dryly. "Not that I expect you to, but…"

"You'll find out with everyone else, Matou. After all, it wouldn't be much of a test if you knew what was coming, eh?"


	37. No Win Scenario

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 37.** _No Win Scenario_

In the sky above an endless sea of trees, six figures sped on broomstick towards their destination: an inverted pyramid of weathered white stone just visible above the horizon, an ancient ruin whose makers had been long forgotten by any living civilization.

"Think that's it?" Ron Weasley asked, the redhead squinting as he leaned forward, shading his eyes with one hand as he tried to make out any details of what lay ahead. Sadly, with the sun hanging low in the sky before him, this was an exercise in futility. "The place where they've hidden the Holy Grail?"

"…well, I don't see anything else that seems promising," Cedric mused aloud. He turned to the girl beside him, the one he trusted most of the entire group. "Do you, Cho?"

After all, like him, she was a Seeker, trained by endless hours of Quidditch practice to notice the smallest hint of something out of the ordinary. But as she scanned the horizon, peering into the distance, the Chinese girl shook her head, biting her lip.

"I think Weasley is right, Ced," the girl said quietly. "I don't see any other leads."

"Malfoy? Dunbar? Ginny?"

His outriders responded in the negative as well, with Diggory, the commander of the group, acknowledging their replies with a curt nod.

"Alright, let's get closer then," the youth ordered. "Malfoy, you and Dunbar fly low, keeping watch for anything unusual around the treeline. Weasleys, fly ahead of the formation and keep us informed of any threats from the sky. Cho, cover me."

"Roger that."

The fliers zoomed to their positions, and keeping a watchful eye for any emergent threats, they advanced in formation, the distance between them and their destination shrinking at a rapid clip. Soon they would be at the temple – and who knew what awaited them once inside?

"Flare!" came a shout from below, as Fay Dunbar caught sight of a shower of green sparks, looking much like the ones she'd seen above a burning forest months ago, and then a hidden clearing around it, surrounded by trees. "I think it's a landing zone, captain!

"Good!" Cedric boomed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You and Malfoy hold position here, and make sure the landing zone is safe. Cho and I will link up with the Weasleys and do a bit of scouting."

"Captain?"

"Well, while we have brooms, might as well get in close and buzz the temple, to see if there's a way in from above…or at least to see if we can get any idea of what's on the ground between the landing zone and the entrance," the youth explained, with Fay giving a curt nod and descending towards the ground below as he and Cho zoomed forward.

Ahead, he raised an eyebrow at the sight of the two Weasleys circling the ruin like wary vultures, apparently engaged in a squabble over what to do next.

"I don't see why we don't just land and have a look around," Ron was saying, gesturing to the flat roof of the temple below. "I mean, it couldn't hurt, right?"

Ginny just shook her head and sighed.

"Ron, you've never taken one of these before. And for all you know, the roof could very well be trapped," the redheaded girl argued, though she could see her argument was falling on deaf ears. Luckily for her, before anything else was said, Cedric and Cho joined the two above the ruin.

"What's happening here?" the youth asked mildly.

"Captain," Ginny replied in a clipped tone, her lips pressing together. "My brother and I were just having a disagreement about whether to get closer. He thinks we should land on the ruin and look for a way in from the top. I think it's probably a trap."

"Well, let's find out," Cedric noted, producing his wand from a pocket in his robes. " _Avis_."

With a loud blast like the sound of a rifle being fired, a swarm of falcons burst forth from the tip of the youth's wand, angling towards the barren stone of the roof. The moment they made contact, however, concealed runes flared to life all over the temple's roof, reducing the conjured birds to nothing more but ash before vanishing once more.

Cedric – and Ron – blinked at this, momentarily speechless, while Ginny simply sighed and shook her head.

"Don't say it," Ron warned, looking over at his sister. "Please."

"What? You mean, 'I told you so'?" she couldn't resist asking, with her brother's face taking on a pained expression.

"Yes. That," he answered.

"Well…it's definitely a trap, that's for sure. Wouldn't be much of a challenge if it were that easy anyway," Cho broke in, not wanting to hear the siblings squabble over these things when there was a mission to finish. "Ced, back to the landing zone?" She looked back in the direction where they had left Malfoy and Dunbar. "I don't know about you, but I want to make sure the Slytherin Seeker and the Gryffindor Beater haven't torn each other apart."

"Hah! They wouldn't…" But the youth trailed off as he saw the serious look on his girlfriend's face. "Surely you don't think…"

Cho just shrugged.

"Better safe than sorry," she said, swinging her broom around and zooming off in the direction from whence they'd come.

"…well, you heard the lady," Cedric said after a beat, as he moved to follow suit. It simply wouldn't do for a leader to be shown up by his subordinates, after all. "Weasleys, after me."

Fortunately, there was no disaster waiting for them when they arrived at the landing zone, just a lone flier hovering above the clearing with streaming chestnut brown hair – the Scottish girl Fay Dunbar, with Draco Malfoy nowhere to be seen.

"…hey, where's Malfoy?" Cho asked the Gryffindor, who simply pointed to the ground below, with nary a person in sight. The Ravenclaw peered down at the clearing, carefully checking to make sure she hadn't missed anything, or that the boy wasn't hiding behind a tree, but didn't see anything. "Dunbar…"

"It's fine," the Scottish girl said brusquely. "He found an invisibility cloak on the ground and is hiding under it."

"…it wasn't neatly folded and out in the open, was it?"

"It was, actually," Fay remarked, raising a slim eyebrow. "I'm not sure if that means it was meant for us, or if it means there's someone else already here."

"Or if it was a trap."

"That too," Fay noted, shrugging. "But Malfoy wanted to go down, and since nothing has killed him yet, so it's probably safe. For now."

"For now," Cho echoed.

"Well, you can never be too sure about one of these exercises," Fay observed. "I mean, last year, there was an army of Dementors to contend with. This year, we haven't seen anything like that yet…"

"So the real danger is still to come, you're saying."

"Yes," Fay said, as the others came into view. "No luck getting at the ruin from above, I take it?"

"No," Cho replied, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "Disintegration curse."

Both of Fay's eyebrows shot up in surprise, with the girl looking from Cho to the three figures rapidly approaching.

"You didn't lose anyone, so how…?"

"Bird-conjuring charm," the Ravenclaw explained. "Handy thing."

"Ah. That it would be."

Cedric arrived with the Weasleys moments later, signaling for the group to descend to the rocky forest floor. As they touched down, and dismounted, the youth was surprised, but not entirely impressed, to see Draco Malfoy step out from under a rather large invisibility cloak with his broom.

"Look what I found just laying here," the Slytherin Seeker observed. "An invisibility cloak big enough to cover all of our brooms."

"So we can't land on the temple roof and are meant to approach it on foot, huh?" Cedric mused, though his mind turned to darker possibilities for why the cloak might be here. "Somehow, I don't like that idea, since it means it will be harder to get away if need be. Let's face it. We have quite a few more options when flying than when on the ground."

Fay grunted in acknowledgement, while Malfoy crossed his arms with a sour look of defiance, as if to say that while the older boy might be right, it wasn't as if he was helpless on the ground. Far from it, in fact.

"So what you're saying is, you don't think we can beat whatever is in our way," the blond remarked with a touch of irritation. He didn't particularly like people doubting him or his abilities, after all. But then he glanced over at Ron and Ginny and snorted. "Then again, you have a second year here, and of course, Ronald Weasley, who isn't even a proper Ourea member. Never took a Kobayashi before. Probably couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag if he had to."

"Why you—"

" _Gentlemen_ ," Cedric hissed between clenched teeth, fixing both Draco and Ron with a baleful glare, as this was the last thing he needed. "I do not doubt your capabilities in the slightest. I chose you, after all – both of you – _all of you_ to join me on this mission, and I would not have done so if I did not have faith in what you could do and if I did not believe you would be useful in what is to come."

"Alright, Ced, what _do_ you have in mind?" Cho asked, her brown eyes curious as she regarded the Hufflepuff.

But the youth did not answer directly.

"What do we all have in common?" he inquired instead, his gaze moving from one member of his team to the next. "Aside from the fact that we are all part of the Ourea."

Surprisingly, it was Ronald Weasley who answered.

"…we play Quidditch?" the redheaded boy hazarded, with the Gryffindor rewarded with a grateful smile.

"Mister Weasley is correct," Cedric announced, looking between his team members again. "You all play Quidditch. And that is important, given that of the Ourea, you are the only ones who do."

"Oh?" Fay asked.

"The people who designed this temple and its defenses don't think like Quidditch players," he explained, a curious expression of cheer tugging at the corners of his lips. "Since the roof is trapped, they expect people to dismount here and to proceed to the destination on foot, meaning that what we will face is probably geared towards incapacitating or disabling people _on the ground."_

"You want us to fly through the forest?" Cho deduced, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at the dense forest around them. True, there seemed to be enough room to fit a boom and rider, but…she knew that there would be all manner of sharp turns within, and very little visibility. "It's an interesting idea, but isn't it a bit dangerous?"

"More so than doing exactly what Lockhart expects? We've taken the _Kobayashi Maru_ before – we know _that_ is utter folly," Diggory retorted, which the others had to admit was a fair point. "Accepting the given circumstances of one of these scenarios all but guarantees failure." His voice was grim and his demeanor perfectly serious as he locked eyes with his team. "Don't get me wrong. I agree that most people would probably find it difficult to fly through a forest. But then we're not most people, are we? We're Quidditch players, and damn fine ones at that! We even have the four starting Seekers of Hogwarts among us, as well as a Beater and a Keeper."

Malfoy, who had been on the verge of speaking, remained silent, seemingly mollified by the Hufflepuff's words of praise.

"All of us want to win. To show Lockhart that we do not believe in no-win scenarios. And so we have to do something _different_ ," Cedric continued. "Something bold. Something unexpected. That's why I picked you – all of you."

He took a deep breath, looking at each of them in turn.

"Not because you are individually the best at combat, though you are each very skilled – both as competitors and captains. Not because you are the best strategists – though you have a solid grasp of tactics and strategy. Not because you are proven leaders – even though each of you has proven yourself a hundred times over. I picked you because you are experienced _Quidditch players_. Fliers. Masters of the skies. In all of the Ourea, you no doubt have the best broom handling skills, the best ability to work as a team, the best ability to think outside the box. And together, I think we can win."

"Alright then. You've picked us - what do you want of us, Cedric?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Fly with me," Cedric responded. "It will be difficult, to be sure, but it is better to face what is merely difficult than what is impossible. We'll move in two groups – one consisting of Malfoy, Ron Weasley, and Cho, and the other Ginny, Dunbar, and myself. The lightest and fastest scouting ahead and blazing a trail for the rest of us to follow, the defenders protecting them, and the most experienced bringing up the rear in case. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Ron spoke up, crossing his arms. "Why do I have to be in a team with _him?"_ he asked venomously, glaring at Malfoy.

Cedric sighed.

"Would you rather follow your sister's every move?" the youth questioned, with Ron's expression growing tight and pinched.

"…now that I think about it, no. But well…"

"I think you know the story of the Stone Cutters and how they came to be, right?" the Hufflepuff remarked, stilling Ron's protests. "Given that your brothers are members, you should, at least. It was an open secret that they were at war with one another – the infamous Weasley Twins against the Boy from the East and the Boy-Who-Lived. They hated each other. Pranked each other mercilessly, and probably would have done worse. But then the troll came…" Cedric Diggory trailed off, shaking his head. "The troll came, and they put their differences aside to defeat it, just as you and Malfoy will need to put your differences aside if we want to succeed in our quest for the Grail. Can you do that?"

"…I guess," Ron replied, the reluctance in his voice plain as day.

"'I guess' is not good enough, Ronald Weasley," Cedric responded. "You want to be seen as a champion, as a heroes, as a leader among leaders, but are you willing to do what is necessary to reach that goal?"

The youth looked at Ron challengingly, with the young Gryffindor meeting his gaze without flinching.

"I am."

"Then mount up, and let's ride."

Only minutes later, the two groups found themselves speeding through the forest, weaving between trees as they hurtled towards the temple.

" _ **Stupefy!"**_

Draco Malfoy juked left and then right again as a bright red spellbeam tore through the space where his head had just been, striking a plumed, winged serpent almost two meters in length that had been rushing straight at him.

An Occamy – an aggressive, highly territorial creature – said to be native to the Far East.

…just one of the many hazards that those approaching the temple could expect to encounter.

"Watch it, Weasley, you almost hit me!" Draco snarled, turning to glare at his erstwhile protector.

"Sorry, I didn't expect you to dodge that way!" Ron shouted back, about to launch into a tirade – only to bite his tongue, his eyes widening at the sight of something suspended between two trees. _'Oh merciful Merlin…'_ "Malfoy, look out!"

"Huh?"

But the warning came too late as Draco Malfoy ran smack into an Acromantula's web, the sticky silk wrapping around him as he lost his grip on his broom, which free of his control, veered off somewhere into the forest.

"Ugh…" Malfoy groaned, dazed from the impact. "Weasley…what…"

And then he froze, his body going perfectly still as a jet-black creature with far too many eyes and legs slinked out of the underbrush, hissing the words, " _Fresssh Meaaatt_."

"Acro…acromantula," he breathed, and then his doom was upon him. Faster than anything that size had a right to move – it barreled over to the boy and folded the web over him before lifting him up into the air with its front legs. He could hear Weasley shouting something as he rained spells down upon the spider, but it did no good, as the young Gryffindor's spellbeams shattered on the arachnid's hairy carapace.

The spider ignored the annoyance, sinking its fangs into the hapless Draco Malfoy to paralyze him before bringing its spinnerets to bear, spinning his body round and round as it wrapped him in silk.

"Hey you, don't ignore me!" Ron cried above, though the spider was doing just that. If he couldn't affect it directly, then maybe... " _ **Incendio!**_ "

With a wave of his wand, the web-wrapped form of Draco Malfoy was set aflame, with the flames quickly spreading to the Acromantula's forelimbs. The giant spider dropped the bundle of flaming silk and reeled back in shock, focusing its full attention on Ron with a bloodcurdling shriek.

' _I'm dead. I'm so very dead.'_

" _ **Stupefy!"**_ was all he had time to cast before he was knocked off his broom by a wave of barbed needle-like hairs that struck every inch of his exposed skin – as well as his eyes, blinding the boy. " _ **Ahhhhhhhhh!"**_ he screamed as he fell, casting what spells he could towards the crashing he heard coming closer and closer.

And then for Ron Weasley, it was all over, with the spider's fangs sinking into his throat and ending his wretched existence.

Cho, seeing what had happened to Ron or Draco, shook her head and simply sped by, hoping the creature would be distracted enough by its new meal that it would ignore her, as she knew that confronting it would be an exercise in futility, and she had no wish to give her life in vain.

She even managed to avoid running into any other spiders or traps, with the temple in sight when—

 _Pain. Painpainpainpainpain._

Light blossomed, a line of runes blazing into existence on the ground as she slammed into a powerful barrier and was burned to ash in an instant.

The other team fared little better as Ginny met the same fate as Cho, a scream of pain and utter desolation issuing from her throat as the magical barrier tore apart her form.

As if the activation of the barrier had been some kind of trigger, the doors of the temple opened, with an armored troll nearly five meters tall emerging from within and _roaring_ as it pounded towards them.

'… _we're doomed…'_ Cedric thought, his wand in his hand as he stared at the oncoming beast, feeling true terror for the first time. "Dunbar, get out of here. I'll draw its attention."

"But, captain, what about—"

"Go," the youth insisted, his eyes old and weary as he looked upon the great troll, knowing there was no way he could beat it. Not with Dunbar by his side, and certainly not alone. "This is my fight."

"But you'll…."

Her voice faltered as she took in her leader's expression, one which accepted that he had been wrong. That because of him…because of him, his team had…

"Go," he commanded, brandishing his wand. "That's an order, Dunbar."

"Understood, sir," Fay said softly, flying off in the direction from whence they'd come.

With a wave of his wand, Cedric transfigured some of the fallen stones upon the ground into wolves to distract the troll – but the creature simply charged past, trampling them underfoot as it came straight at him, seeing him as intruder and _enemy._

"Today…is a good day to die," he whispered, before the club splattered his entrails across the clearing and everything went mercifully went dark.

When he came to again, Cedric Diggory found himself drifting through a sea of white.

' _No. It's not white…'_ he realized after some time. _'It only seems like white. But…where am I?'_

It wasn't anywhere he knew. Anywhere he recognized. Anywhere he had heard of, as there was nowhere in the world that was just an expanse of nothingness. In the world, anywhere one went, there was at least form and time, if not light, air, color, and sound.

Here, there were none of those.

There were no names. No words. Nothing, as he sank, falling deeper and deeper into the pattern of reality.

No. That wasn't right, was it? How could he be falling if there was nothing here, nothing to fall from, nothing to fall to, nothing to fall through? How could he be falling when the very concept of falling itself was meaningless?

What had happened? How had he gotten here? His mind was fuzzy, his thoughts were clouded.

"—or—."

'— _or—?'_

"Dig—."

' _Dig—?'_

"—y."

'— _y?'_

"Dig—ry."

' _Dig—r?'_

"Diggory. **Wake up.** "

' _Diggory.'_ The word stirred something in him, with the pieces of his mind reassembling themselves as he spoke it. _'A name. My name. My name is Cedric Diggory.'_

The sea of white faded, with the youth coming to awareness again, finding himself laying on the cold stone of the castle floor. His head hurt. His body hurt. There was no part of him that didn't hurt.

But he…was alive.

"Can you hear us, Mister Diggory?" a voice spoke. A familiar voice at that…

' _Professor Lockhart's voice…'_

"Ugh…" he groaned, opening his eyes and forcing himself to relax as he felt someone helping him to a sitting position, letting him see the stirring forms of his comrades being carried out of the room.

The ones he had chosen to aid him in his quest. The ones who had given their lives for him.

The ones he had failed.

"One burned to death. One eaten by an Acromantula. Two killed on impact with the barrier. And yourself crushed by a troll," another voice broke in – a younger voice this time. The voice of someone he looked up to as an example of what ordinary people could become in extraordinary circumstances: Robert Hillard, the prefect who had risen to become a Stone Cutter. "How did it feel, Prefect Diggory?"

A cup of something aromatic was placed into his hands, and he downed the contents quickly, feeling the pain in his body ease as he did.

"…I failed," the youth said distantly. And he'd failed spectacularly, to boot. That might have been expected last year, when the _Kobayashi Maru_ had pitted them against an army of Dementors and the Dark Lord who commanded them, but this year…this year, they hadn't faced anything outright _impossible_ to stop.

"You did," Hillard noted dispassionately. "And…?"

"I thought…" Cedric hung his head. "I thought I had what it took to be a leader, that I could take this group of people and challenge the _Kobayashi_. That if we were daring enough, bold enough, we could win. But…" His voice faltered and the youth swallowed, closing his eyes. "…I was wrong."

Silence hung in the air for a time with the Prefect beginning to think the worse – that because of his performance, he'd be dismissed from the Ourea, stripped of his honors and more, but then Hillard spoke again.

"Being what people call a hero, or well, a Stone Cutter, isn't about honors or glory, Prefect Diggory," the Head Boy remarked, his tone sympathetic but edged with steel. "It's not about courage, or charisma, or winning." Cedric's eyes flew open as he stared at the older boy, the one he'd looked up to for years now. This was a different face to the hero he knew, one he didn't think the boy showed often. "It's about sacrifice, teamwork, and knowing what it is you value. It's about leadership, and understanding the responsibilities of leading."

"…is that why…" _'…you had us pick others to come with us?'_

Robert chuckled bitterly.

"Indeed. When you are overconfident as a leader, when your plans fall through, when you fail, you are not the only one who suffers." The Head Boy knew that all too well, given what had happened in their final encounter with Quirrell, with the burden of leadership sitting heavier on his shoulders with each passing day. "Your team trusted you. They had faith in you."

"…and I failed them," Cedric whispered.

"If this had been real, all of your team would be dead, save for Miss Dunbar, who you sacrificed yourself to protect," the Stone Cutter confirmed.

"Even…Cho?" the Hufflepuff asked, swallowing. "I didn't see…"

"Your paramour, Miss Chang, would have been vaporized by the protections around the temple."

"I see."

Robert Hillard sighed and shook his head.

"But this was not," the Head Boy continued. "Real, that is. Oh, the emotions are. As is the pain and frustration that both you and they felt. You failed. You let them die. But you – and they – are alive, that you might learn."

"I…if I'd known…"

"That's the thing, Prefect. We don't always know," Hillard said softly. "We cannot always know before we charge into the breach."

"But…after this…if it's the same scenario…?"

"Then those who have experienced it before will know some of what awaits them, yes. But will it help them? Or will it paralyze them? As a Ravenclaw, I can tell you that knowledge is not always power. A little knowledge, in fact, can be the most dangerous thing in the world."

"…you might have a point there," Cedric conceded. Part of why he'd been so confident was because he hadn't known what awaited him. If he had…

"Indeed," Hillard mused aloud. "Mister Diggory, as you – and almost everyone else – knows by this point, you are very likely to succeed me as Head Boy. Whether or not you are selected as Tri-Wizard Champion, you will have responsibilities to the students of Hogwarts, given that over half the school – Fourth through Seventh Years – will be with you at Durmstrang."

"I've never…I've never left Britain before," the Prefect stated, shaking his head. "I don't…"

"They haven't, either," Hillard rejoined. "With few exceptions, most of us are born in, grow up in, and die in Britain. So while at Durmstrang, they will look to you for guidance. Especially if you become Champion."

"…but what about the Stone Cutters?" Cedric asked, genuinely curious. "Aren't you and the others the ones everyone looks up to? I mean, even I…" He trailed off.

"People look up to us, yes," the Head Boy affirmed. "But they also think of us differently. They don't see us as their peers exactly. They see us as heroes, as extraordinary individuals who strut about the stage of history and do the impossible. They look up to us, but they don't look _to_ us – because in their minds, there is a gulf between us and them, between what we do and what they can accomplish. What we were, that we were like them, doesn't matter as much."

"It matters to me," Cedric said quietly, his eyes meeting Hillard's. "It matters that someone who isn't the Boy-Who-Lived, who isn't a mysterious boy from the east, who isn't one of the Prankster Twins who even Peeves respects, stands among the Stone Cutters. It…you remind me that greatness is not entirely out of reach."

"It never is, Prefect, so long as one dares to reach for it. There is always a place among us for those who strive, and those who prove themselves worthy."

"…I'll keep that in mind."

"See that you do, Mister Diggory."

* * *

For Ron Weasley, who had never been exposed to something quite like this before, the visceral power of the _Kobayashi Maru_ was nothing like what he had expected. True, he'd taken Professor Quirrell's Christmas Challenge in his first year, but that had been nothing compared to what he had just experienced – and even if it had been, that was over two years ago at this point, and his hadn't been one of the more brutal ones.

Getting his throat ripped out by an Acromantula – even if literally he hadn't seen it coming (because it had blinded him) – had been something on a whole other level. Even now, after drinking the potion Lockhart had pressed into his hands, an elixir which had reversed most of the nocebo effects left by the spider attack, he found himself trembling as he replayed those final moments of the assault again and again in his mind, sitting in the corridor outside the Ourea clubroom with the other members of the organization.

Being knocked from the air. Losing his sight. Knowing that death was coming, without any way to defend himself. Knowing that in the end, resistance was futile. That had been utterly…

"What happened to you?" he croaked out, turning to the person seated beside him – his sister, who he had discovered was apparently Longbottom's Second in the Ourea. "In the forest."

Ginny was silent for a moment as the images of last year's Kobayashi flashed into her mind, a scenario where she'd been forced to confront Sirius Black, who had laid siege to Ottery St Catchpole with a vast army of enemies.

A scenario in which she'd surrendered Ron to the clutches of the Dark Wizard so that everyone else might be spared.

She'd resolved to do better this time. To win without sacrificing anything, like Hillard had done. But…

"I died," she whispered softly, shaking her head.

"How…?" Ginny didn't reply immediately. In fact, Ron wasn't even sure she'd heard him. "Gin?"

"…you know the runes carved onto the roof of the temple?" she asked at last.

"Yeah?"

"There's a line of them around the temple, too," the Seeker of Gryffindor answered. "Get too close, and, well…"

She shivered. Last year, she'd been one of the lucky ones, one of those who had gotten away with only emotional scars to bear. This year…

"…then how the bloody hell are we supposed to get inside?" Ron growled, balling his fists in frustration. "It's like that git Lockhart is setting us up to fail."

"…well, he _did_ call the _Kobayashi Maru_ a no-win scenario last year," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "Even though a couple of people did beat it."

"Huh." Ron grunted and shook his head. Even with just Acromantulae and the invisible cursed barrier, he had a feeling this was far above anything he was capable of. Still, even if the very thought of leading a team into _that_ terrified him, even if every bit of magic he had was screaming at him not to go through that again, that it utterly meaningless, he wouldn't just quit.

Truth be told, the boy knew he would probably fail. He knew that compared to Cedric Diggory, he wasn't nearly as experienced in the art of leadership. Compared to his sister, he wasn't as good a flier or as much of a daredevil. Compared to someone like Matou, he wasn't nearly as powerful.

But there was a part of him that refused to give up, a part of him that said that if he walked out now, he would never become anyone of note, unlike his brothers and his sister.

All of his life, Ronald Weasley had wanted to become _somebody_ , and now he'd been given a chance. Apparently, there were those in the Ourea – perhaps even Matou, the boy who had slain an Acromantula in single combat – who thought he had potential, and he wasn't about to squander it.

Not even if they tossed him against what he feared most.

Yes, the Acromantula had killed him. But as the memories flashed into his mind over and over, he came to the realization that the only reason it had come after him was that he had hurt it – or at least surprised it – when he had set the webbed Draco on fire in his ill-thought out attempt to free the other boy.

The spider had seen him as a threat.

It had taken him seriously.

The door opened then, with Professor Lockhart emerging with a thoughtful-looking Cedric.

"We're ready for the next person," the History Professor noted, eying the group for any who seemed less than eager to participate, with his gaze falling with amusement on the rather sullen Seeker of Slytherin, who had been leaning against the wall a bit down the corridor, shaking his head. "Mister Malfoy, I do believe you're up."

"No."

The response, curt and bitter as it was, surprised the man.

"What was that, Mister Malfoy?" Lockhart asked.

"I said no," Draco repeated, matching the assassin's glare as his lips twisted into a scowl. "I'm not doing this. Working with that Mu—ggleborn for a play is one thing. Walking into certain death without any chance of victory? Facing things like Acromantulae or Dementors when we haven't even learned how to deal with them, or the spells for stopping them are far beyond even a normal Seventh Year? Forget it."

"Mister Malfoy," the History Professor intoned coolly, the man's tone making Draco bristle. "I remind you that you are a member of the Ourea, and as long as you hold that status, you are required to participate in the _Kobayashi Maru_ exercise."

"Then I quit," Draco Malfoy stated bluntly. "The Ourea is supposed to be an organization that trains leaders, but what you're teaching isn't leadership. It's insanity."

A hush descended upon the members of the Ourea gathered in the corridor as they bore witness to the dispute between their mentor and one of their peers.

"Are you certain, Mister Malfoy?" the History Professor asked quietly, his features harsh and unyielding as stone. "If you choose this path, there will be no going back. Not even if you change your mind."

The atmosphere was tense as the others waited to hear what the boy – one of their peers – would decide.

"…so be it," Draco said with finality, as he turned and walked away, with Gilderoy Lockhart watching him silently until he disappeared down the stairs in the distance.

"Disappointing," the man uttered as he turned back to the group. "But then, Draco Malfoy never did understand the deeper lessons of the _Kobayashi_. Curious, really, how it is those born to power who are the ones who appreciate its costs the least, as opposed to those who work for it." Lockhart shook his head. "With that in mind, are there any who would like to volunteer to go next?"

"Me."

Ron wondered who had spoken up – and why everyone was looking at him and muttering in surprise – before he realized it was he himself.

"Oh? You would like to volunteer, Mister Weasley?" the History Professor asked coolly.

"I would," the Gryffindor boy said, keeping a tremor from his voice only with the greatest bit of effort.

"Very well then. And who would you like to accompany you in your quest for the Holy Grail?"

Not the easiest of questions, that, but then, Ron had thought about who he might want.

"Dunbar, Diggory, Lovegood, and Goldstein."

Diggory had led the previous team and likely had insights. Dunbar had survived where the others had fallen. Lovegood and Goldstein were respectively the founder and current leader of Team Snorkack, who led the Capture the Flag league, and since Lovegood's Christmas visit to the Burrow, he had had suspicions about her relationship with Matou.

A mix of those who had just gone through the scenario with those who had not, as there was a balance to keep in mind. Yes, those who had been through the trial would be prepared for what lay ahead, but those who had just…died, or who were still processing what had transpired might be more of a liability than an asset.

'… _just like Malfoy, who quit just now rather than face that scenario again.'_

"That's four, Mister Weasley," Lockhart observed, as those named rose and made their way to the door. "Do you have another person in mind?"

"Eh…Longbottom," Ron said after a moment. The Consul might be a right git, but at least he was a Gryffindor, and Ron figured that someone who was co-leader of the Ourea had to be good for something.

"Very well then," the History Professor noted, as Neville got up as well. "Come in then, Mister Weasley, and when you and your team are ready, we will begin."

So the group made their way inside, with Ron frowning as he overheard Prefect Diggory mutter "…here we go again."

He'd show them he was capable.

He'd show them _all._


	38. Original Thinker

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 38.** _Original Thinker_

"We're coming on Acromantula territory. Advance with caution," Ron Weasley ordered quietly, his voice almost a whisper as he crept through the dense, gloomy woods with his five chosen companions. Given what had happened last time he was here, a team of six people wasn't nearly enough firepower for his peace of mind, even if each was at least competent with a wand, but would have to do. After all, even if he wished he had an entire army at his back, they were all he had. "First rank, shield wall, now. Second rank, wands out."

His comrades nodded, shield spells shimmering into existence as three of them – Fay Dunbar, Anthony Goldstein, and Cedric Diggory, muttered a quiet _Protego_ , with Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ron himself using their comrades – and their shields – as cover as the group advanced.

The redhead didn't know much about Acromantulae, given that such creatures hadn't been covered in any Defense class he'd had in his three years at Hogwarts, and so he didn't know what exactly they were capable of. What he did know, however…made him more than a little nervous.

' _Well, no. That's a lie.'_

Being completely honest, Ronald Bilius Weasley was _terrified_. Being back in the forest, back in the place where he'd been so brutally savaged, he could scarcely keep his breathing under control – and he was sure the others could hear the rapid-fire pounding of his heart, even if they had been kind enough to say nothing about it.

He was almost certain that victory was impossible, given that Ginny had told him that the _Kobayashi Maru_ – whatever kind of name that was – was a "no win scenario", yet here he was, clinging to the desperate hope that maybe he was wrong.

That maybe, just maybe, he could _win._

"Forward," he said, his eyes darting here and there, trying to see any sign of movement in the gloom, any sign of those hateful webs, but there was nothing but underbrush…for now.

' _Maybe I should have kept one or two of us on brooms as scouts…'_ Ron thought ruefully, though it was far too late for that, as he'd had his group stash them under the provided invisibility cloak. _'No. If I turn back now…'_

…he'd lose his nerve. For the Weasley boy, there was nowhere to go but forward into the maw of destruction.

' _Still, I wish the forest weren't so thick…anything could be in there.'_

Hundreds of Acromatulae, for example. For where there was one…

Then his worst nightmare was upon them – a hideous shape with too many legs that came out of the underbrush, barreling into the group without any warning, its massive form _smashing_ the formation to the ground, their shields flickering out as their concentration lapsed.

Before anyone could react, the monster seized Cedric Diggory with its front legs, lifting him into the air, with the boy only able to look on numbly as the legs brought him closer and closer to razor sharp pincers dripping with venom…

" _ **Stupefy**_!" a voice cried out – not his own. The voice of Neville Longbottom, whose eyes were wide in fear.

The spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy body, but for all the good it did, he might as well have just thrown a stone, with the spider's pincers slicing into the Hufflepuff's unguarded belly.

"No!" Ron shouted, his wand coming up as he shrieked the words to one of the earliest spells he'd learned. " _ **Expelliarmus**_!"

The Disarming Spell, which in theory should have made the spider drop its prey…but didn't.

' _No…_ '

" _ **Expelliarmus!"**_ he cried again, but his spell had no effect, as once more, he was forced to bear witness to the grim spectacle of someone dying before his eyes, without any way to stop it.

" _ **Stupefy**_!" Neville called out, the red spell-beam aimed not for the spider, but for Cedric this time, striking the older boy as his body went slack. If he couldn't…if he couldn't save the Hufflepuff, at least he'd make sure Cedric wouldn't suffer.

"Together." Luna's voice cut through the din like molten metal through butter. "Disarming Spell on three. One. Two. Three!"

This time,the incantation for the Disarming Spell issued from three mouths at once, with the unconscious body of Cedric Diggory falling to the ground with a sickening thud – and the Acromantula rearing up in fury as they drew its attention at last.

"Stunning Spell," Lovegood's voice commanded.

"But, it didn't…" Ron grimaced, as he'd seen a stunner just bounce off the spider's carapace, and wasn't at all sure it even _could_ be stunned.

But Luna paid him no heed, as she was already issuing more commands.

"Goldstein, Dunbar, with me. Stunners on three."

"Yes, ma'am!" Anthony Goldstein barked out, shaken from his paralysis by his former captain's reassuring tones.

The sheer trust and confidence Ron heard in the Ravenclaw boy's voice made Ron blink. He would be the first to (grudgingly) admit that the other boy was competent on the battlefield, as Team Snorkack headed the league, and Lovegood had once headed that team before Goldstein took over, but how did that translate to trusting Lovegood in a situation like this?

"One."

He didn't know – but he would have given anything for people to listen to him with such respect – to trust him so completely – though the thought of such a thing also terrified him, for what if he failed?

"Two."

The spider charged, its massive form targeting Lovegood this time, but Luna did not so much as flinch.

"Three!"

" _ **Stupefy**_!"

A volley of four crimson spell-beams lashed out at the arachnid, their combined might doing what one alone could not, with the spider keeling over sideways and crumpling to the ground in a tangle of hairy legs.

Ron swallowed as he looked the immense form of the spider, thinking that any moment now, it would get up again. That it would simply kill them all for daring to inconvenience it. For having the hubris to believe that wizards could possibly be a match for such terrible beasts.

Already, Cedric's body had vanished, with the poison no doubt having taken hold.

' _One down already…'_

Yet the others didn't give in to despair. Even as he watched, one of them used the Levitation Charm to lift a fallen log into the air, floating it above the insensate Acromantula and slamming it down with brutal force over and over again, crushing the unconscious beast as its lifeblood trickled out onto the ground.

' _That was…Lovegood?'_

It had to be – her wand had been the only one moving, even if she hadn't said a word.

' _Nonverbal…she must have learned Matou's arts…'_

That and the way she had efficiently ended the spider's life after it was incapacitated reminded him unpleasantly of how the boy from the east had singlehandedly defeated the spider in the tunnels – something he still hadn't told anyone about.

"If there are others, they will be attracted by the smell of death, away from our party," the small blonde noted as she looked at him. "We should either move on or retreat. Your orders?"

 _His_ orders? Right…he was nominally leading this run, wasn't he? Shaking his head as if to clear it, the Weasley boy sighed. He wanted to retreat after what he'd seen – what had just happened, but…

He couldn't.

"Onward," Ron commanded, his voice harsh as he looked into the distance. "Turning back…isn't an option."

"Weasley," Fay interjected. "We're already down a wizard. And if we go too far…" She broke off, shuddering. "There's a barrier around the temple. One that will disintegrate anything it touches." _'…and alert a troll that there are intruders.'_

…she remembered only all too well the horror of that monstrosity – a beast nearly five meters tall, wearing some kind of armor. A creature that Cedric had sacrificed himself delaying so that _she_ could escape.

This stopped the boy cold.

"…a barrier?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he remembered what had happened when something conjured hit the Temple roof. "Invisible until something touches it?"

Fay only nodded.

"That's why I'm not sure if we can go on," Fay concluded. "If we don't know where it is until we hit it…"

"Do you know _Avifors_ or _Draconifors?"_ Luna broke in, with Fay blinking in confusion at the sudden query.

"…yes, but why?" the Scottish girl answered, unsure of what a spell to transform things into birds or miniature dragons could be useful for.

"P-Professor McGonagall taught us _Draconifors_ this year," Neville added. "And _Avifors_ is a second year spell."

"…ohhhh," Ron said, as something _clicked._ "Ok, I see what Lovegood has in mind. Longbottom, you and Dunbar use _Draconifors_ on some of the stones or fallen twigs around here, to create a screen of things to scout for us. We'll have the swarm go ahead of us, and when they hit the barrier…"

"Sounds workable," Anthony Goldstein noted, nodding slowly. "Do we remember exactly which direction we were heading in?"

Ron frowned at that.

"I think we were going that way…" the Weasley boy answered, gesturing vaguely to the left. "The temple was west of us…I think."

After the clash with the spider, they'd gotten a little turned around, after all…

"Well, there's an easy fix to that, at least," Goldstein replied, flattening his palm and whispering " **Point Me"** to his wand. The length of wood spun around once and pointed slightly right of straight ahead, towards one of the bigger trees in the forest. "Ok, that way's north, so yeah, to our left."

Ron grunted, but said no more, with the group advancing in near silence…until part of the swarm that preceded them crashed into the unseen barrier, a line of runes blazing into existence as those transfigured beings were turned to ash.

"…I guess there's the barrier," Neville said, looking around. "But how do we get past…?"

He clammed up at the sound of a monstrous roar in the distance, one that sent an icy shiver down his spine.

"Troll," Fay whispered, swallowing.

"Fall back!" Ron said harshly, as the roar sounded again, with the ground beginning to shake as the troll pounded towards them, still out of sight, for now. "Quickly!"

'… _we should have kept our brooms with us,'_ he thought. That way, they'd at least be able to speed away…but it was too late for that.

The group moved, but the troll was faster, crashing into the clearing with all the force of a moving mountain.

"Attack!" Neville and Fay ordered, as what remained of their swarm launched themselves at the troll, only to be smashed out of the air by a massive wrought-iron club as it turned to _them._

In mere seconds, it would close the distance between them. In mere seconds, they would be struck down. In mere seconds…

' _No. No. I won't allow it!'_

" _Glacius!"_ Ron called out, running to put himself between the duo and the troll, as an icy wind howled forth from the tip of his wand, lancing for the creature's eyes.

The troll reeled back, not having expected the onslaught – particularly not as Fay and Neville joined their leader in casting the Freezing spell, with one of the monster's hands moving to shield its eyes.

"Take that, you bloody wanker," the redhead crowed, pouring more and more of his magic into the gale he was creating, sheer exultation surging through him as the troll bowed its head.

' _Yes. Yes. Take that. Take that!'_

…that was the last thought Ronald Weasley had as the troll _charged,_ his body crushed into the rocky ground by the momentum of its vicious assault.

Fay, who had just a moment more warning, managed to push Neville out of its way, though she herself did not escape, her body broken to pieces by the enemy's sheer bulk.

" _ **Wingardium Leviosa**_ _!"_ another voice called out – Goldstein's – as the club flew from the troll's grip and smashed into its metal-covered face, staggering the beast.

Again and again the club smashed at its iron mask, the air ringing with the sound of metal on metal as the troll roared, its arms moving to grab the weapon from the air, but failing.

" _ **Reducto!**_ " another voice called out – that of Luna Lovegood, who had an odd smile on her lips as a bolt of blazing blue light issued from the tip of her wand, arcing through the air and slamming into the troll.

…no, not the troll. Its helm, which _exploded_ in its face with a blood curdling shriek, staggering the beast as the club pitilessly smashed into its unprotected face over…and over, and over, with a final blow knocking the creature unconscious, with the forest itself seeming to shake as the massive evil-shaped form crashed to the ground, with the club falling beside it as Goldstein released his spell.

In the silence, Luna ran, feet carrying her towards the fallen troll with every ounce of speed she had as she clambered on top of its foul smelling form and jammed her wand up its nose.

" _ **Reducto."**_

What gave a troll resistance to spells was its stony hide. If one was able to bypass that by, say, jamming a wad of _ofuda_ down its gullet or one's wand up its nose, then, well, there would be no resistance, and whatever spell the caster intended would take full effect.

As it proved here, where Luna Lovegood's Reductor Curse blew apart its skull – and brains – with its face blowing outward and then going slack as its wretched existence was ended forever.

With the battle finished, the girl withdrew her blood-covered wand from the troll's orifice and jumped back to the ground.

"It's time to fall back," she ordered calmly. "Goldstein, help Longbottom. We're heading back to the landing zone."

The scenario ended shortly thereafter, with Ron Weasley slowly returning to awareness. He found himself laying on a cold stone floor, alone, with every inch of his body screaming in pain. He'd…he'd died. Again. Failed.

"Can you hear us, Mr. Weasley?" a voice called out, with the redhead's only response a strangled moan.

His forced himself not to resist as he felt someone helping him to a sitting position and force a vial of something down his throat – something that numbed his body, easing his pain.

"What…happened?" Ron asked, not sure if he wanted to know.

"You were crushed by a troll, Mr. Weasley," Professor Lockhart responded helpfully, as the boy grimaced and shook his head.

"…and the others?"

"Miss Dunbar pushed Mister Longbottom out of the path of the troll, though she was killed herself," the History Professor noted.

"Oh." Ron was silent for a moment as he digested that. In the end, his last stand had accomplished nothing, and… "What about…Lovegood and Goldstein? Did they also…?"

Lockhart chuckled at the boy's query.

"…they survived," the Assassin noted, a reply that brought a bewildered expression to the Weasley boy's face.

"…how?" Ron whispered. Surely the troll wouldn't have just ignored them. Did they…? Had they…?

"They killed the troll, Mister Weasley."

The redhead's eyes bulged in disbelief as he heard this, wondering how that was even possible. With how his brothers had talked about trolls having spell resistance, how was it that Lovegood and Goldstein had slain it?

"...how?" he said again.

"That will be something for you to figure out, Mister Weasley, though the Levitation Charm came into play."

"Huh. I see." He didn't though, not really. There hadn't been any fallen logs around, boulders, or… _huh_ "Did they…kill it with its own club?"

"Not a bad guess, Mister Weasley," the History Professor noted in his cool tones. "You have a long way to go before you truly achieve your potential, however. What say you, Mister Hillard?"

At the query, Ron finally took notice of the fact the Head Boy – the eldest of the Stone Cutters – was in the room…and had probably watched what had happened. All of what had happened. Including his failures…

"From what I saw, you certainly have some amount of bravery," Hillard allowed, the Ravenclaw's face utterly expressionless as he regarded the younger boy. "And the fact that you volunteered to go next after Mister Malfoy refused speaks well of you. It is true that you have a long way to go before you are truly suited to lead a group into combat, but Merlin permitting, you will have that time."

"Merlin permitting, yes," Lockhart agreed, a wry, almost sad expression crossing his face for a moment, before the man's expression returned to its normal, tranquil state. "For what it is worth, I think your willingness to listen to your team members' suggestions is a good thing, Mister Weasley, as it allows you to compensate for what you do not see. Further, your willingness to confront the troll, and to block its path, while perhaps foolish, also says something about character."

"Character is one thing," Hillard said, frowning. "I will note that if it were not for the actions of Miss Lovegood, you would have lost your entire team."

"Which is scarcely worse than Mister Diggory," Lockhart riposted. "Mister Weasley's team was not…"

"…destined to fail?" the Head Boy questioned dryly.

"In a word, yes," the History Professor acknowledged with a dry cough. "They showed a willingness to work together, even in desperate circumstances, circumstances in which Mister Diggory's team dissolved into chaos from personal quarrels."

"Point," Hillard allowed. "That team was held together only by its leader's charisma, not out of any sense of loyalty to each other, or any shared duty. A dangerous thing when one is going into a hostile situation."

"Agreed," Lockhart said quietly. "That much I am aware of." He turned back to the nervous figure of Ron Weasley, who sat awaiting the man's judgement as to his fate. It was true that Ron didn't care much for the so-called adventurer, but… "Mister Weasley, I am inclined to recommend you for membership in the Ourea, so that we may see just what you are capable of. The final decision, however, is up to your peers."

"I…I see," the Gryffindor replied, his emotions a whirlwind. He didn't know whether to be happy, nervous or… "I…"

"I suppose congratulations are in order as well, Mister Weasley."

"Oh?"

Lockhart chuckled.

"Of course. You have completed your first _Kobayashi Maru._ "

* * *

"Finished. Try it now," Goldstein's voice called from below, with a grin nearly splitting Fay Dunbar's face in two as her transfigured swarm of birds passed through the space the line of runes would have been with no ill-effect, before following them in on her broom, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of additional barriers or defenses.

…but there were none, with a thunderous crash in the distance and the whoop of triumph that followed signaling the defeat of the troll which guarded the front entrance.

' _The barrier is down! Goldstein was right!'_

"It's down," she confirmed, with the air rippling to reveal the head of Anthony Goldstein, who was wearing the team's invisibility cloak.

"Good," the Ravenclaw answered. "I was a little worried whether the others would be alright holding the troll's attention, especially after the mess with the spiders earlier."

"…yeah, running into a nest of them wasn't fun. We fought our way out, but it was touch and go for a while there," the Ravenclaw admitted. "One isn't so bad. Three at once. Eesh."

"Glad you had air support, huh?" Fay quipped, with Anthony nodding fervently.

"It was a good idea to keep some of us on brooms – and for the rest of us to carry ours on harnesses. Not that it kept us from losing Miss Bones."

"…no, you're right about that," the boy murmured. "Shall we link up with the others?"

"Let's. I'll cover you, so don't go invisible this time."

"Right."

They made their way over towards the front entrance, moving slowly to where Neville waited with Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson over the corpse of a slain troll.

"Good job, Goldstein," Pansy remarked. "I was a little concerned that you were taking so long. Especially since this thing was one tough bugger."

"Apologies Miss Parkinson, but with all due respect, there were four foundation points I needed to disable," the Ravenclaw replied, nodding to the girl. "Each with a different runic configuration."

' _Thankfully, unchanged from my last run though.'_

"Tricky."

"You're telling me," Anthony said dryly. "I'm the one who had to deal with it. Still, the barrier is down, at last. And we didn't lose anyone to the troll. That's something."

"Thanks, Anthony," Neville said, nodding his head at the other boy. "You know quite a bit about runes, huh?"

"I'm a Ravenclaw. It's my job to know."

That and he had an interest in barriers himself, as his ambition was to work for Gringotts as a cursebreaker and see the world. As such, he knew that whatever their effects, most barriers could only be maintained if their seals were intact.

And that if the troll could _exit_ the barrier with ill-effects, there had to be more than one anchor point, unless there was a single, extremely complex seal engraved into the ground specifying everything the barrier could do.

…if _that_ were the case, he would have had to give up, since his understanding of runes and arrays wasn't advanced enough to disable something like that. That would leave the brute force method of using his magic to eliminate the seal, or to drain the magical energy in the seal, and he wasn't especially skilled at either of those.

Yet.

So as Neville's team kept the troll busy, Fay had helped him by using her miniature dragons and birds to keep the barrier lit up, with him finding the first point immediately east of the entrance and keeping it visible with _Verdimillious._

The next had had been due south of the temple, then west, then north.

' **Point me** _helped a_ lot.'

If it wasn't for that spell, which he'd read about in one of his spellbooks, he would have gotten…well, quite lost. He wondered sometimes if it was a spell Professor Lockhart made much use of, or if he just used a compass instead.

Perhaps he'd ask, sometime.

"Shall we go in?" Neville asked, eyeing the great stone doors of the temple with a bit of trepidation.

"You're the boss, Nev," Fay replied. "You tell us."

Neville Longbottom took a deep breath and nodded.

"In we go, then."

They stepped into the antechamber of the temple, wands drawn as if expecting the worst, but relaxed as they saw no immediate threats.

…but that was the wrong move, as the ground gave way under them and they _fell_.

Cold, damp air rushed past them as they plummeted into darkness, falling down, down, down, tumbling end over end until –

 _FLUMP_

— with a funny, muffled sort of thump they landed on something softish.

"…ugh…" Pansy groaned, "what happened?"

"We fell," Anthony said blandly, his voice coming from beside her. "It was a trap."

"Besides that, oh great Master of the obvious," Pansy remarked acidly. "Did anyone not get caught up in that?"

"Me," came a faint voice from above. Fay Dunbar's voice, they thought. "I held on to my broom just in case."

"…good for you," Pansy uttered, struggling to sit up as she realized she'd lost track of her wand. "Dunbar, can you get us some light down here?"

In answer, there was a cry of _Lumos_ , as the area they were in was faintly illuminated from above, revealing that they'd all landed amongst some kind of dense, vinelike material…and that their legs had already been bound with long creepers without their noticing, with Longbottom and Greengrass unconscious, having hit their heads against pieces of rubble.

"Shit," Pansy said with feeling, as more vines moved about her chest. "Devil's Snare." _'How do I…I beat it with fire, but…'_ "Dunbar, summon our wands."

The light was extinguished as Fay cried out _"Accio wands!"_ with five lengths of wood flying into her hands. It flickered on again, revealing the girl descending on broomstick.

"Catch, Parkinson."

Pansy reached up and barely managed to catch the wand, which she used to efficiently free herself from the vine with well-placed Severing Charms. She knew fire would repel it, but she dared not use fire – not while her companions were still there. Quickly, she freed Anthony as well, with Fay tossing the boy his wand as both of them summoned their brooms, which had fallen down with them.

"I think this run is shot," Fay called down.

"Couldn't agree more, Dunbar," Pansy said, even as the vines started creeping up again. "What say you, Goldstein?"

But the boy was shuffling over to where Greengrass and Longbottom had fallen.

"Agreed, but we're not leaving them behind," Anthony spoke, with iron in his voice. "We're not leaving them to die. Not if we can help it."

Pansy grunted.

"Fine, Goldstein. Have it your way," she acquiesced. "I'll get Greengrass. You get Longbottom."

"Fair."

Together, they cut the stricken members of their expedition free of their bonds, and used Seize and Pull Charms to grab onto them as they mounted their brooms and lifted into the air.

Lockhart seemed almost amused during the after-action report, noting that they had done a fairly good job, despite their lack of caution as they entered the temple. After all, they were the first team to find and disable the anchor points that maintained the barrier – and the fact that they had carried their brooms with them allowed them to escape the trap.

"A pity you did not advance further, but you are to be commended for choosing a good team, Mister Longbottom. One that chose not to leave anyone behind."

"That wasn't my doing," Neville replied, closing his eyes. "They made that choice without me."

"Yet they saved you all the same. Sometimes, you learn more about people from failure than through success, no?"

"…you have a point, Professor. And…thank you."

"Don't thank me, Longbottom. Thank your team."

"Mm."

* * *

One by one, the others of the Ourea stepped up to the challenge of leadership, choosing their teams and building on the work of those who had come before. Su Li's team came to a bad end when they stumbled upon a chamber of Billywigs. Ginny's was ambushed and nearly overcome by a pack of Gytrashes – vicious dog-like spirits which concealed themselves in darkness – with them forgetting that it was the basic wand-lighting charm they were weak against, not one of the more advanced spells.

And so and so forth.

Anthony Goldstein had made an aggressive push into the temple, mapping out a number of its chambers and hazards as a bit of advanced reconnaissance, but it was not until Fay Dunbar led her team into the challenge that one managed to unravel the deepest riddles of the temple, defeating its guardians until they came to what they figured was the entrance to the final room – or what had better be the final room, given that it was warded by a curtain of ebon flame, with a strange indentation in the wall beside it containing several potion vials and some kind of inscription.

"One of these is Flame Freezing potion, isn't it?" Pansy asked, eyes narrowing at the many vials. "But there's barely enough for one swallow in each of these."

"From the inscription, the rest are either poison or simply not useful," Luna commented. "Pity we don't have bezoars with us."

"Heh. You've got that right," Pansy remarked. "Well, Dunbar, what's it going to be?"

Fay shook her head. Already she'd lost half her team, and the fact that only one person could go through, while the rest had to remain behind was setting off all sorts of red flags in her mind.

' _Ambush.'_

"We're falling back," she said, with Pansy looking at her in shock.

"What? But…the goal is…"

"It doesn't matter." Fay cut her off. "We have three people left, and I don't think that's enough, no matter how skilled the two of you are. If I was the one who put this all together…" _'…I would have designed a challenge that needed a full team if one wanted even a chance of success.'_

"Well…your run, your decision," Pansy said tightly. She didn't agree with the decision, but it wasn't her choice, after all.

On her own, she went through – and encountered an enemy she couldn't defeat.

Luna Lovegood likewise entered the chamber on her run, with her team only down by one member, but though she passed the test and was allowed to retrieve the Grail, she was forced to destroy the Grail in the end to keep it out of enemy hands

And then it was Matou Shinji's turn, the very last of the Kobayashis.

By now, each of his team members was quite experienced with the labyrinth, and under his direction, they thought they had a chance to win. After all, they'd come quite close before, hadn't they?

Armed with the information from past runs, as well as the extra firepower of Matou's dual wands and _ofuda,_ there managed to reach the final archway – though it had taken considerable effort to _keep_ anyone from getting injured too badly – and Luna's help to patch up those who had been injured at all.

"So the Holy Grail is in there, huh?" Shinji asked, eying the suspiciously familiar barrier of ebon flame barring the way ahead, as well as a riddle he remembered all too well.

"Yes," Luna confirmed, her white dress seeming almost purple in the odd light of the flames.

"So you managed to get it, huh?" Pansy inquired, raising her eyebrows. "Didn't get out with it though."

"Mm. There was an ambush, and I had to destroy it to save my team," the girl murmured. "You didn't?"

"…I well, I was a little slow about it," was all Pansy said. "What I saw…"

"Yes?"

"No, it's none of your business, Lovegood. I'm just surprised you managed."

"One tries."

"Speaking of which, Lovegood, is there a reason you changed out of your normal robes?" Pansy inquired, eying the dress the girl was wearing. "That kind of thing isn't quite I expect to see during a raid on an ancient temple."

"I had my reasons," Luna answered, but she left it at that.

"Alright, Matou, I assume you're going through, since you're team leader," Pansy remarked, turning her attention back to the boy who led them. "Who's in charge while you're gone?"

Shinji glanced over his team – Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom, Fay Dunbar, and nodded, having already decided. Especially as he knew the reason behind Luna's current state of dress – though not why she'd chosen it for this run, as opposed to the others. As the only one who'd actually faced the ambush, he had no doubt she would be able to hold until he got back.

"Luna, you're in command."

The girl in white curtseyed.

"As you wish," she replied, her voice carrying little of the dreamy quality it normally held, only a quiet sense of determination.

Preparing himself for whatever was to come, Matou Shinji downed the vial of Fire-Protection Potion and passed through the flames.

* * *

Matou Shinji thought he was ready for anything, but as he stepped out of the flames, he found himself confused as he found himself in what looked like _Mahoutokoro_ , around the time of Tanabata, if the fireworks and decorations were any indication.

He was standing on a bridge, facing a masked figure looking out upon the city below, a figure clad in a midnight purple yukata patterned with the faintest impression of red-violet leaves, held together with a golden obi.

"You have come, Matou Shinji," the other said – in perfect Japanese – as she turned to him, removing her mask.

Shinji swallowed, not expecting to hear that familiar voice _here,_ to see a face that was familiar in its own way.

"Sokaris," he breathed. For that was the person before his eyes: Sialim Sokaris – not as Sion Eltnam Atlasia, the older Director of Atlas, but as his friend – the girl he had known at Hogwarts. Only she looked a little different…as if her age mirrored his. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?"

"It is Tanabata, is it not?" the other inquired, with the boy only able to smile.

"It is," Shinji remarked. "Here."

Even though it wasn't elsewhere in the world.

"Yet here we are," the other noted, her lips quirking for a moment into what might have been a smile – but only for a moment. "Stand with me."

Shinji smiled faintly. If it were Sion, he would refuse her nothing but…

"…I would…if you were real…" he said, even though every one of his senses told her that Sokaris was there, in front of him. He could see the moonlight on her bronzed skin, feel the heat of the desert lingering on her, smell the desert sands…and yet…..

"Am I not, Matou Shinji?" the girl asked, her eyes almost curious.

"No," Shinji said with a sigh, turning away from the image of the one who meant so much to him. This…this wasn't her. He knew it wasn't. Sion was…the Director of Atlas was back in Egypt, so… "As much as I wish you were."

"Does that matter?" the voice of Sialim Sokaris asked. He could feel her gaze burning into his head, and fought against every bit of desire he had. "Here and now, we are here. Do you find my company…unpleasant?"

"…no," the boy said after moment. "And if things were different…" He trailed off, unable to find the words he wanted to say. "There are people waiting for me. There's something I have to do. I'm…" The boy shook his head. "I have to go."

"Are you certain, Matou?" the girl asked, her voice almost a whisper as she came to stand by his side. "If you go, we will not meet again."

"I…" Shinji swallowed. He was tempted, tempted beyond anything to just give in, but… "I'm sorry, Sokaris."

Having made up his mind, he glanced up at her to find that the figure of Sialim Sokaris was dissolving into golden motes of light, just like the false _Mahoutokoro_ , leaving only a room wrought of stone, with a chalice upon on the altar.

After taking a quick glance about for traps, and seeing nothing obvious, he took hold of the Grail, before turning to go and passing through the curtain of flame once more.

* * *

 _Whump-boom!_

An explosion blew away those who had been left behind – or would have, if they hadn't already raised Shield Charms. As it was, the first strike blew away their shields, with spell-beams tearing through the space they used to occupy and stunning half the team, leaving only Pansy and Luna standing.

"There's too many of them," Pansy quipped, as she tried launching her own spell beams at the enemy, only to find her attacks blocked. "Six of them."

Shadowy versions of each member of the team, capable of using every ability they'd displayed up until the time of the attack.

Including Matou Shinji and his _ofuda_.

Pansy had seen how powerful Matou was in battle, had heard rumors about him, knew the stories, and had been present when he'd blown away the Boggart. But in her mind, she'd always harbored some doubt as to how strong he could be.

She had none now, not when _the false Shinji_ he had blown away most of their team with a single attack, before following up with a swarm of _ofuda_ to bind them.

Like anyone else might, she used gouts of fire to try and burn them, but there was too much coming at her – and he wasn't alone. There was a full team against Lovegood and herself, with spellbeams ruthlessly slicing through the air as Pansy dodged and blocked and moved.

 _Whump-boom!_

And then a second sphere of _ofuda_ came too close, erupting into a storm of force that tore apart her defenses and slammed her into the wall.

' _Matou…where are you…?'_

But even Matou Shinji couldn't beat himself and a team, could he?

' _A no-win scenario…'_

She understood now. The more skill, the more power one brought to bear against it, the more would be brought to bear against the challengers. That was why it was a no-win scenario. Why there hadn't been a chance from the beginning.

And yet…Luna still stood.

' _Huh. Wha…?'_

As Pansy looked on, beams of red and blue and green slammed into the blonde without effect, with the _ofuda_ being pushed back by something like an invisible wall, with the world around Luna Lovegood wavering.

' _Are her eyes…glowing…?'_

No…it had to be a trick of the light. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her, had to be—

In the next moment, Pansy screamed as a terrible sound filled the air, as if the very air itself was being torn apart, was howling in pain.

The corridor _pulsed_.

From Lovegood, _something_ surged forth. Roiling waves, like a shredder with hundreds, thousands, no, countless blades, racing down the hallway…

…and obliterating the bodies of their attackers, leaving behind nothing but a fine red mist.

In a single instant, the doppelgangers had vanished. Distorted, sliced, compressed, utterly _destroyed,_ with the architect of their demise – Luna Lovegood – standing there untouched, calmly regarding the space where their enemies had been.

Pansy was silent, finding herself utterly stunned – and more than a little fearful, as the girl turned to regard her, her hands glowing gold.

But as Lovegood's delicate fingers touched her, Pansy felt a sense of peace, soothing away her pains, and refilling her energy.

"You…" Pansy whispered, swallowing. "…how did you?"

Her voice trailed off. She had trained rigorously, learning as much from the _Book of Spells_ as she could this year, but…Pansy Parkinson knew her limits better than anyone else, and she knew she wasn't capable of using something like this.

Of _doing_ something like this.

She knew that Luna could use wandless magic, but to utterly destroy even Matou Shinji…how…?

"Who _are_ you? Are you Matou's…"

"We train together. Every morning," Luna responded, tilting her head. "I usually win, too."

Pansy's face went slack in shock as she heard that, her mind freezing. _What?_ Not… _what?_ This was so beyond her that…

Laughter.

Someone was laughing hysterically.

It took Pansy a while to realize it was _her_ , and even longer for her to stop laughing.

"…you and Matou, huh? I…well…I guess you're going to be the next Stone Cutter, if anything."

"Mm," Luna responded. Before the blonde could say more, Shinji emerged from the curtain of fire, raising an eyebrow at the sight of half his team crumpled to the ground.

"It's over already?" Shinji inquired.

"Indeed," Luna answered, and with that, the scenario ended, with the others stirring as the cold surroundings of the temple faded away, with both Rober Hillard and Gilderoy Lockhart looking on in mild surprise.

"So…" the History Professor began, looking at Matou Shinji and Luna Lovegood. "You have succeeded in claiming the Holy Grail. I suppose I should have known that someone would beat the no-win scenario, eh, Hillard?"

"…well, I suppose I did say there was no such thing," the Head Boy allowed. "Even so, that was…unexpected. Any questions?"

"One," Shinji found himself saying. "What I saw when I passed through the flames. Why…?"

"Desire is stronger than fear, Mister Matou," Lockhart replied. "Even if your mind knows that something is an illusion, it is far harder than most realize to toss away a dream. It takes extraordinary strength of will, in fact." He turned his cold gaze upon Pansy. "Isn't that right, Miss Parkinson."

"…yes, Professor."

"I will say, I am impressed, overall. By your strength of will and by…Miss Lovegood's unexpected abilities." The man chuckled dryly. "I am surprised you managed to hold that power in reserve, more than anything else, but then you aren't the first to surprise me so. Congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Professor," Shinji replied.

"Of course," Lockhart said. "To congratulate you all for completing your challenge and to introduce our new members, there will be a banquet tonight, which all of the Ourea are welcome to. But first, Matou, if you, Lovegood, and Hillard would join me in my office for a moment?"

* * *

"…so, how long have you been a Stone Cutter, Miss Lovegood?" was the first question out of Gilderoy Lockhart's mouth once they were seated in the privacy of his office. "Shortly after the first Capture the Flag game, I imagine?"

"Yes," Luna confirmed.

"I suppose I should have expected it. There are few other explanations for why you would resign from your post as captain of Team Snorkack," Lockhart noted. "That said, you have a worthwhile successor in Anthony Goldstein. He even proved himself admirably tonight."

"He did," Shinji interjected. "So you wanted to talk to us?"

"Yes, Mister Matou," the Assassin replied with a thin smile. "Now, given the nature of the scenario that you designed, Mister Hillard, I take it you expect the Stone Cutters to face Acromantulae soon?"

"...well. Yes," Hillard admitted. The Head Boy proceeded to outline the basics of the plan to confront the Acromantulae colony during its time of hibernation, with the man listening expressionlessly. "I wanted to see how others would deal with these creatures."

"I presume that you, yourselves, have no experience facing beasts such as these in large numbers?" Lockhart asked. "Given how accurately you modeled them, I imagine you have fought them before, however?"

Hillard nodded.

"A pity none of you are trained Magizoologists like Newton Scamander, who is one of those rare wizards, like myself, with a great deal of travel experience, though your fascination with strange creatures reminds me a little of the man, Miss Lovegood."

"As you say, Professor."

"Likewise, your abilities remind me of those of Djinns, but that's neither here nor there, despite what an old teacher of mine would have to say about them," Lockhart said brusquely. "Can I safely assume that the rest of you have other abilities like this?"

"Some of us, Professor," Shinji admitted after a few tense moments of silence, knowing that Lockhart would ferret out a lie.

"And what is the reason you are conducting this operation in secret?" he inquired. "I presume it is out of more than a desire for glory or the wealth that might be obtained from the destruction of such a colony?"

"...are you familiar with the history of Rubeus Hagrid?" Shinji asked, as Lockhart blinked, his lips curving downward in a tight frown as he recalled what he knew about the half-giant - specifically his expulsion from Hogwarts over a notorious incident almost half a century ago...

"I take it this is related to the Chamber of Secrets incident then?" the Assassin said flatly. "That this colony is his doing?"

"Yes," Shinji affirmed. "My sources tell me that the original spider was brought here by Hagrid."

"...troubling. Acromantulae tend to devour one another in the absence of other food, but if there is an Acromantula that has survived for nearly fifty years, it is likely to be immensely powerful and rather immense in size."

"...could you give me a size reference?"

"If most full-grown Acromantulae are about the size of carthorses, this one - and its mate, assuming it has only one - would likely be the size of a small elephant. And of course, the others are likely to be fiercely loyal to their leader while alive, meaning they will do whatever it takes to keep you from getting to him or her. Consider, if you will, the specter of a roiling wall of fangs and eyes and mouths, bearing down on your intrepid group."

Shinji felt a chill go down his spine at the thought of such an onslaught. Facing something like that might well stretch his abilities to their limits, even with the help of a trump.

"...I see," the boy whispered.

"I assume you have an estimate for the numbers involved?"

"Somewhere under a thousand, but over five hundred," Hillard supplied, with Lockhart's eyebrows both arching upward at the answer.

"A formidable number. Even for myself, that would be…a challenge."

"Indeed," Hillard noted.

"I suppose you'd be right to avoid letting others know. For if the half-giant found out about your intentions, he would likely interpose himself between the spiders and you. Or at least rally them as a force. And that point, things would get… _interesting._ "

"...I hadn't considered that," Shinji admitted. He'd thought that Hagrid might warn the spiders or move them, but he supposed it was possible the half-giant would stand against them, and that would not be pleasant to deal with. The prospect of dealing with a grand army of beasts, coordinated by a dangerous magic-using foe was...well, it wasn't something he was at all sure he would survive facing.

"I thought not. As powerful as your group is – as mighty the feats you have accomplished – you are yet young and innocent to the realities of the world. Consider the likely purpose of those spiders, powerful and dangerous beasts useful for protection...or for conquest."

"Conquest, sir?"

"Yes, Mister Matou," Lockhart responded gravely. "Conquest. If a powerful wizard was to...say transfer them to the Ministry via Portkey, where a fourth of Wizarding Britain is employed, these hungry beasts would appear amidst throngs of witches and wizards who couldn't cast a decent shield charm if their lives depended on it. You know what these spiders are capable of, as well as the average wizard. What do you think would happen next?"

Death. Death on a scale beyond anything Wizarding Britain had ever expected. Was prepared for. Could ever be prepared for.

"...that's..."

"This is the reality of what you are confronting," the Assassin said quietly, his cold gaze boring into the boy. "Even with every precaution you have made, I am unsure if it will be enough. I have no doubt you can slay a few - perhaps even a few score. But the longer you fight, the more tired you will become. And against the numbers you are proposing to face…."

"...I...see."

"However, there are ways to help mitigate the risks," the man allowed. "Beyond training and equipment."

"Yes?"

"Your ally Peeves," Lockhart replied, as Shinji's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "As someone who cannot be slain, someone who can be as material or immaterial as he wishes, the poltergeist presents an interesting asset to call upon, whether to draw attention, to kill the enemy, or call for help."

"Huh. I hadn't thought about that. He's not limited to the Castle then?"

"The spirit of chaos is linked to the castle and its grounds, presumably," the Assassin noted gravely. "I will provide some assistance myself by keeping watch for any sign of Rubeus Hagrid, preventing him from leaving the castle, if need be."

Remembering his dream about an assassin slaying giants with little more than knives, Shinji had no doubt Lockhart would be able to do so.

"...that's very generous of you," the boy said cautiously.

"Perhaps. I have no desire to see your group perish. Britain does not need more martyrs, after all," the Assassin commented. "It needs leaders who are not as corrupt and self-serving as Lucius Malfoy. The Stone Cutters - the Ourea - both are symbols that change is possible, that the limits men impose upon themselves are false limits - that wizards and witches can be much more than the Ministry would believe. So for this, I am willing to lend some aid. Should more be required...we can work out the details then, agreed?"

"Agreed, Professor."

"And you, Mister Hillard?"

"Yes."

"Miss Lovegood, you are a Stone Cutter – are you agreed as well?"

"Yes."

"Good. I am glad to hear it," Lockhart replied. "There's just one more thing."

"Yes, Professor?" Shinji asked warily.

"As useful as scenarios like the _Kobayashi Maru_ are in expanding a student's worldview, they are no substitute for going abroad and seeing the realities of the world," the Assassin remarked, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "So I am inclined to take a member of the Ourea under my wing this summer, so to speak, with that member experiencing the life of an adventurer."

"Did you have anyone in mind?" Luna questioned.

"Frankly, I had thought to take you, Miss Lovegood, but I suppose you have other plans?"

"I do," the girl confirmed. "I will be Brazil this summer."

"And Mister Hillard, you have Auror training, don't you?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Matou, you would have made an interesting adventurer, but I am aware of your obligations in _Mahoutokoro_. So…of the remaining members of the Ourea, do you have any recommendations? Mister Diggory aside, that is?"

Shinji thought for a moment, with his mind finding the name of a girl who wanted more than anything else to leave Britain – and who had done reasonably well.

"Pansy Parkinson."


	39. The Truth of One's Whereabouts

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 39.** _The Truth of One's Whereabouts_

As he stood on the balcony outside the Ourea clubroom in somewhat dated dress robes, looking out upon the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts while listening to the sounds of celebration coming from within, Ronald Bilius Weasley could scarcely believe what had happened today.

Even now, he wasn't sure what had been more terrifying: the _Kobayashi_ scenarios – where he had faced not only Acromantulae, but the specter of his death over and over again, or facing the assembled members of the Ourea as the twelve looked upon him dispassionately, discussing his fate.

He was sure he'd failed to impress them.

Granted, Lockhart had apparently recommended him for membership, but he didn't think any of the Ourea would be particularly swayed one way or the other. Especially not Matou or Parkinson, who were far and away the most influential members – Matou might not officially have a vote, but he talked, people listened, and Parkinson kept her own counsel, much as he'd expected from a Snake.

In the end, what mattered was how he'd done, after all, and in spite of the modicum of praise that the Head Boy and the History Professor had given him, he'd failed his challenge, with his strategies amounting to naught in the end.

Whatever the man might have said, nothing was more telling of what his peers thought than the fact that no one chose him to accompany them in future runs.

They chose Dunbar, Goldstein, Lovegood, Longbottom and others – but not _him_. Diggory not really being chosen either was cold comfort, since the older boy was _already_ part of the Ourea, and didn't have his fate hanging in the balance.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Matou Shinji had intoned, his cold grey eyes sending a shiver down Ron's spine as he bid the red-haired boy to step forward. "After discussing your…performance, we have come to a decision."

Ron had swallowed.

' _This is it, then.'_

"Longbottom, the verdict, if you would?" Matou had continued, with Longbottom nodding and standing.

"From a personal note, I expected more of someone who has been doing well in Capture the Flag," the co-leader of the Ourea had said. "Neither of your teams fared well, and it is questionable how much you really contributed. But no one is _expected_ to best the _Kobayashi Maru_ , and it is undeniable that you had certain…disadvantages."

Neville had been silent for a moment, with Ron hanging on his every word.

"All of us have had more time with the _Book of Spells._ We have faced the peril of the _Kobayashi_ before, and I assure you that for the most part, we fared as poorly as you did. We have a better sense of our comrades, having worked with one another for a year."

Fine words and all, but they had made Ron very nervous, and he just wanted the other boy to get to the point.

"You have much to learn, Mister Weasley, but skill and knowledge can be acquired if you are willing to dedicate yourself. As your Consul, I have some reservations about that, but Parkinson seems to think you're capable, given how Capture the Flag has spurred your desire to learn, so that you – like the rest of us – can use the Stunning Spell when it isn't actually taught for another year."

Ron had blinked then. A _Slytherin_ had spoken on his behalf? And he supposed he… _had_ been studying a bit more because he wanted to beat people like Malfoy and Goldstein. _Huh_. He'd never really thought about what he was doing as studying, just as preparing for his matches, but… _huh._

"What is much more difficult to change – what the _Kobayashi_ tests, is your _character_ ," Neville had noted coolly. "And whatever else your flaws, whatever else you may need to work on – your character is sound. After experiencing a grisly death, you volunteered to go next – even when our former member – Malfoy, refused. You listened to your group. You even died for them – though we are admittedly split on whether that was intentional or if you were overconfident in standing up to the troll."

So…did that mean…?

Neville had finally smiled, with the severe expressions of the other members of the Ourea easing as they nodded to him.

"We've chosen to induct you as a member in good standing, with all the rights and privileges thereof. Congratulations, Ron."

"Your brothers would be – no, _are_ proud," Shinji had added, and it had been all Ron could do not to break down, weeping at the realization that at last he had made _something_ of himself. All of his life, he'd been the one who no one had given any respect to in his family. The one who'd worn – and used everyone's hand me downs. The one who no one had expected anything of.

He didn't really remember much after that, just that there had been a wave of congratulations, that Lockhart had shaken his hand, and more, with him eventually managing to slip free from the crowd and vanish to the balcony while the group proceeded to induct Goldstein and Li.

Frankly, he needed the fresh air, needed several deep breaths of the cold to steady himself, to reassure himself that he was actually here. Today…he'd experienced things he couldn't even have imagined scarcely a day ago. Actually fighting an Acromantula. Standing against a troll. Doing things…well, things that were worthy of a hero, not just some supporting character who would never amount to anything.

Feeling the heady sensation of _glory_.

"It's all a little overwhelming, isn't it?" A soft voice broke the boy from his thoughts, with Ron turning to see Su Li standing next to him, the expression on her face as wondering and vaguely lost as he thought his must be. "All of this?"

"…yeah," Ron admitted, shaking his head. "Until today, I never thought…"

The girl chuckled – and for the first time, the boy thought about what a nice sound it was – delicate and warm and even inviting. He'd last seen her as Malfoy's date at the Halloween Ball, after all, and so had written her off as being like that prat, but in person, she seemed quite different from what he expected.

"Neither did I," Su murmured, still looking out over the snow. "Draco mentioned a little bit about the pomp and circumstance of the Ourea, of its importance and how those chosen were special, but he never talked about the _Kobayashi_. And now he's gone."

"Heh." Ron grunted, not really sure of what to say, since his big mouth had gotten him into trouble quite a few times before.

"From founding member to first person to leave. Not exactly a glowing recommendation, wouldn't you say, Weasley?" the girl asked, with Ron shaking his head. "I admit that if I'd known what the _Kobayashi_ would entail ahead of time, I might not have taken it either, but…"

She'd expected better of the boy who had talked up the Ourea, and his place among their number – yet who had so easily cast aside what he had said to be a great honor and just walked away on a whim. His rejection of the Ourea felt almost personal in a sense, given that it was he who she'd learned about the organization from. It was odd, really – she would have expected Matou to be the one to talk about the organization he led, yet the boy from the east was rather tight-lipped about what the group did, and seemed to let his actions speak for themselves.

Not that that was unexpected from a Ravenclaw.

"Malfoy's a prat," Ronald Weasley said with utter conviction. "A spoiled, privileged prat who's never appreciated a single thing in his life." A moment later he grimaced, realizing that he might have committed a _faux pas_ , since he didn't know the nature of the relationship between the two. "Sorry. You two weren't…?"

"No." The girl answered at once. "No," she repeated more softly, shaking her head. "I was his date for the Halloween Ball, but that was it. Malfoy and I never went out, Weasley, for a number of reasons."

"I thought…"

"Chang was the one he wanted, and she'd never give him the time of day," Su Li murmured, a tad of bitterness creeping into her voice. "After all, if you think about it, he doesn't exactly measure up to either the Head Boy or Diggory, does he? So Malfoy asked someone who looked like her. Me. Even if _she_ was the one he looked at during the Ball."

"Ah." Even Ronald Weasley could tell that this was a bit of a sore spot for the girl, so he decided not to push. "I guess we're missing the party, huh?" he settled for saying, sometime later.

"I guess we are, but what about it?" the girl asked.

"Kind of a shame, since it's our party, right? Well, ours and Goldstein's."

Su chuckled, shaking her head.

"I was pretty certain that Goldstein would get in. He and Lovegood have been thick as thieves since he took over her Flag team, and it's an open secret that Lovegood and Matou are probably seeing each other."

"…oh? But what about Granger?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowing as he recalled Lovegood escorting Matou's childhood friend Tohsaka during the Winter Holidays. "Wasn't _she_ Matou's date to the ball? Even featured in the paper?"

Su only shrugged.

"All I know is that Granger isn't helping Matou with Potions anymore and that she's leaving to go to the Wizarding Academy of the Dramatic Arts, come end of term. Neither of them have said anything about it, but...it doesn't take an Arithmancer to figure out what must have happened," She smiled, a somewhat sly smile as she looked towards distant Ravenclaw Tower. "I hear tell she's one of the stars in the end of year play, alongside Malfoy. Something about star-crossed lovers and tragic love."

Ronald Weasley nearly choked at the girl's statement, his mind going blank.

"Wha…? But…" The bewildered boy groped for the proper words, but couldn't think of any. "Wouldn't his father…go spare? Just like..." His eyes narrowed then. "...after the Halloween play?"

Su Li's chuckle was dry and cold.

"…I think the Professor is rather counting on it."

Ron blinked, before whistling at the implications of Lockhart having the audacity to piss off the Chief Warlock without any concern for his well-being. Was he barking or just...?

"Well," he said, giving the girl a hesitant smile. "I don't much like Lockhart, but I'll say this: he's got a pair. A pair of big brass ones too." He shook his head at the thought. "And well...I guess anyone that doesn't like Malfoy is alright in my book."

"I didn't know you liked books at all, Weasley. Much less owned one."

"Well, every once in a—hey!"

"Anyway, I think I've spent enough time outside, Weasley," Su commented, smiling ever so slightly at the boy's vaguely insulted expression. "Shall we go inside? I think they're about to serve the food, and from what I hear, you're not one to turn down a meal."

Ron flushed, his face colouring to match his hair at the girl's comments.

"Who told you about that?" he asked, disgruntled. Which of his mates had been talking about him behind his back…? "Just because I like to eat..."

"Why you did, just now," Su quipped with a sweet smile that made Ron feel like his ears had caught fire. "Nevertheless, shall we?"

"Well," he said, trying to make light of his earlier indignity. "I never turn down a meal, right? And it'd be a damn shame to miss our own party."

"That it would."

And with that the two stepped back into the warmth of the Ourea clubroom.

* * *

"If this your idea of a joke, Aozaki, it is not particularly funny."

Matou Zouken glowered down at the envelope he'd been handed, the shadowed crags and valleys of his weathered face betraying every one of his many centuries as he removed its contents and perused them in his sitting room, seeming more and more disgruntled as he read on.

"Oh, I assure you, Matou, this is no joke." A lesser woman would have looked for any excuse she could to depart the old man's presence, given the aura of thinly concealed rage that hung about the Archmagus, but Aozaki Touko seemed utterly unaffected – but then there was something to be said for being the sister of a Magician. "Decent house, but not well maintained, is it?"

And if her smirk was any indication, the master puppeteer was rather amused.

"Perhaps not."

The Matou patriarch's voice was perfectly flat as he balled up the first sheet of paper – an invoice for the patently ridiculous sum of **1 billion yen** for "services rendered." He scanned the written summary of these services, something about a replacement puppet body, before crumpling that up as well – and freezing as his eyes came to rest on a lovely 8" x 10" picture of his…grandson and an Einzbern homunculus dancing together, with the latter wearing the Dress of Heaven.

There was something about that picture intrigued him, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on but found _familiar_ somehow. He was of course, aware that he'd worked with an Einzbern once to create the Fuyuki Grail, back when he'd simply been Makiri Zolgen, but being honest, there was a lot about that time he didn't remember.

It had been…it had been more than half a century since he'd thought about it, and every time, he remembered less about his past. But he supposed that was the price he paid for transforming his body into a conglomerate of blood worms, conferring upon him near-invulnerability so long as his worm familiars continued to exist.

He hadn't always been like this. Certainly, there were other methods of extending one's life, and he'd used those to sustain himself over the years, but after the first two Grails Wars ended in failure, he'd seen no other recourse but to change himself so that he might survive until the Greater Grail was completed.

…and around that time, his bloodline had begun to die.

Was it because he and his had been incompatible with this spirits and nature of this land? Was something simply defective about his descendants? Or was it the fact that by seeking immortality himself, and becoming something inhuman, he was no longer…capable of passing on Magic Circuits or the like?

He didn't dwell on the last possibility often. He'd begun to, but then Matou Kariya had been born – the first of Makiri in many generations to be capable of using magecraft. The Archmagus had been relieved and elated, as it seemed that the lineage had finally adapted, and had made arrangements to set the boy up with a Zenjou girl, whose family possessed the ability to bring out the best in their children's abilities.

All seemed to be well, with the two young people getting along – but then Matou Zouken had made the mistake of sharing his intentions with the boy, and Kariya had betrayed the family, leaving Fuyuki and tossing aside the thought of becoming heir.

Needless to say, the Archmagus had been utterly furious with the insolent, ungrateful whelp who had been given everything…and had thrown it all away. Perhaps that was why, when Kariya had returned before the Fourth War, desperate for some way to save Zenjou's daughter from the fate he himself had run from, Zouken had agreed to humor him.

Matou Zouken hadn't really thought for an instant that an unprepared slip of a man who had no training as a magus could truly win the Grail.

He'd just wanted to punish his prodigal son for betraying the family in the most painful way he could: giving him hope enough that he would fight for what was precious to him, only to see what he wanted snatched away by his body's infirmities. And on the off chance that Matou Kariya _won_ , well, in that case, Zouken would have the Grail…and the whelp would still die shortly thereafter.

That – and getting his hands on several fragments of the shattered Grail – were

"Perhaps you could explain what this is all about, Aozaki," Zouken said at last, closing his eyes as he fought off a surge of irritation _._ It was bad enough that the puppeteer had come by uninvited, presenting him with this… _bill_. "I don't recall requesting your services at any point in the last year. And anything involving the boy is not my concern, given that _you_ are his Master."

"…and the Einzbern?" the puppeteer asked, raising a slim eyebrow.

The Einzben…? But what…

"Explain, Aozaki. _Now_." Anyone else who had taken it upon herself to annoy him in this fashion would already be regretting it, but…he could not deny that the puppeteer could sometimes be useful for errands he did not want to be associated. Nor that she was generally competent, and usually had a _reason_ for being a pain in the arse.

"The picture was taken at the Association's Winter Gala," the redhead noted coolly, "where my apprentice and his companion were the talk of the event."

"While I did advise him to ask the daughter of the Einzbern if possible, I am surprised they were willing to send the girl in the first place," the Archmagus grunted. "I would not have thought the Matou name still carried such weight, even with their curiosity over the…disappearance of the Emiya boy. Unless…" He eyed the puppeteer speculatively, but her expression betrayed nothing, so the man just took a deep breath and shook his head. "Continue."

And so Touko did.

"…Ilyasviel never returned to Germany," the red-haired magus noted. "To the Einzbern, she simply vanished. They believe my apprentice responsible for this state of affairs, perhaps as part of a plot you coordinated. Hence the invoice, as their displeasure cost me a puppet familiar while I was in England."

Or at least the squad of combat-trained homunculi that they'd sent to express that displeasure had, as they'd destroyed Tomas' physical body as a warning to her, after they had failed to find Matou Shinji himself…

"…I see. How…inconvenient." That was…sobering. Leaving aside why the Einzbern agreed to send the girl in the first place, that she had _disappeared_ was concerning, as was the fact that they thought the Matou family responsible for her disappearance was. Assuming the girl was alive, and had indeed been spirited away, there were few organizations that were powerful enough to simply erase all trace of her – and so the Archmagus suspected that both Shinji and his puppeteer Master were leaving out some rather important details.

' _Perhaps I will see if Lockhart knows anything about this. Or if not, if he will train my grandson in case the Einzbern come after_ him… _'_

For the past few months, he had been exchanging letters with a man he was almost certain was a high ranking member of the Order of Assassins. And while the man had not exactly been forthcoming with much, Gilderoy Lockhart _had_ mentioned he was training Shinji in the art of movement - in things like _parkour_ and concealment, leaving some veiled hints about his intentions and offering some clues to his past – enough that Zouken had sent Shinji a Hidden Blade, one of the few relics he had from his time before he had come to Japan.

If all went well, then perhaps the Assassin would learn of the boy's possession of the Blade and proceed to induct him into their Order. It would be... _useful_ to have a descendant among their number, especially if and when the War came again. And that way the boy could be useful for more than just eventually impregnating his adopted sister.

After all, the Order seemed to have a supply of useful devices, like the entangled cabined he had received this winter, allowing for instant and secure delivery of packages between two individuals. Rather more useful than the giant spider the boy had sent him, though with some creative re-engineering, Zouken had turned it into a combat automata in case it proved necessary...

"Do you have any other questions, Matou?"

"I presume you wish the total transferred to the usual accounts?" the Archmagus inquired. While he did not wish to spend more than he had to, he supposed the puppetmaster deserved that much for giving him what amounted to advance warning of a state of war with the Einzbern. Any additional time he had to mobilize his own forces and reinforce his defenses was...most appreciated.

"And perhaps a small consideration for my trouble?" Aozaki Touko questioned, the light of the room glinting from her glasses. "In cash, preferably. I presume you some laying around just for such things?"

The man just grunted.

"Naturally."

Grumbling under his breath, Zouken took care of the cash portion of the transaction, given that he _did_ have a briefcase of banknotes for dealings of this very sort – under the table things that should not go on record.

"Thank you, Aozaki. You are of course, useful as always."

"A pleasure doing business with you, Old Man."

And with that she was gone, leaving Zouken alone with his thoughts.

As might be expected, he was...displeased.

' _I asked the boy to do one thing: reconcile with the Einzbern, given that their ire could be...inconvenient. Yet his Master comes to me with a warning of_ that family's _displeasure and his presumed involvement in the disappearance of a homunculus? Can he do_ nothing _right?'_

What had the boy done now? Granted, he knew what he was alleged to have done but it didn't seem possible that Matou Shinji would do such a thing. The child he remembered would not be capable of defying him so...

...unless there was something else going on the Archmagus was unaware of. Had the boy entered into an agreement with one of the other factions of the Moonlit World without his knowledge? Was that how he had convinced the daughter of the Einzbern to attend the gala? Or how he had caused her to vanish?

Who was his...grandson loyal to _now_?

Granted, he didn't expect Shinji to tell him everything. After all, secrets and things unsaid _were_ the natural currency of the moonlit world, but when they inconvenienced him…

' _I need to find out what the boy knows. What he is up to.'_

He might not be useless anymore - but there was a chance he had become something worse - an inconvenience.

So Matou Zouken considered what to do - how to arrange for the boy to come to Fuyuki. He did not want to simply ask via a letter, as there was too high a risk of interception, or to use Lockhart as an intermediary, given that he was not sure of the man's reliability, which left him with something of a quandary. Nor would he really be justified in summoning the boy to Fuyuki, given that he had another Master now.

Amusingly enough it was the boy's worthless father who provided him with an answer. Or at least spate of wretched coughing from the useless Byakuya's room, where the man was sinking closer to death with each passing day. Since the boy had gone off to Hogwarts, his useless excuse for a father had grown weaker and weaker, turning to the bottle more than ever, and the Archmagus was certain that he would soon die.

Provided Byakuya's passing happened by the summer, a funeral would be all the excuse Zouken needed to summon Shinji to Fuyuki as a dutiful son of the Matou family. And if it seemed the man would live on beyond that, it would be a simple enough matter to…hasten Byakuya's demise.

In a way, it would even be a mercy.

'… _and then, boy, I will have the answers I seek.'_

* * *

 _Thud! Thud! Thud!_

Blows fell like heavy rain as Tohsaka Rin viciously struck a wooden mannequin with reinforced fists, a red haze of fury hanging before her eyes as she pictured herself smashing in the smug face of Lord El Melloi II, and the words he'd said to her before kicking her out of his office.

 _"Fuck! You're the worst Japanese in the world."_

After seeing how kind Matou and his friends had been, she had assumed the Tower would be similarly welcoming…but such had not been the case, with her receiving odd looks just because she came from Japan, with even the man who was allegedly her sponsor assuming strange things of her.

 _"Maybe you might... You know, you should be familiar with that town. That place right between Ueno and Asakusa..."_ the man had asked almost nervously, though Rin hadn't understand why he was bringing up a place that even she knew to be a mecca for otaku worldwide. It was hardly a proper topic for a Lord, after all, or a distinguished magus…

So she'd bluntly told him that she had no interest in Akihabara or even Nihonbashi, the financial and business district south of it, whereupon the man had grown annoyed, his eyes looking upon her with a cold fury.

" _Feh. Matou was more interesting than you are, both with his knowledge of games, and his…involvement with the moonlit world and its politics._

He'd gestured to a picture of the young boy standing together with what was clearly a silver-haired Einzbern, along with a number of other figures who El Melloi had proceeded to name, including—.

Rin's jaw fell open as she recognized the old man in black and silver pictured in the portrait. Surely that wasn't…that couldn't be…did Matou know…

" _Yes, that is the Second Magician, the Old Man of the Jewels,"_ the Lord had said coolly, as if sizing her up and finding her wanting. " _Your family's great ancestor. And with him are the Magic Gunner and the Director of Atlas. That is the company Matou keeps, and yet he has an appreciation for games – which are all Japan is good for."_

Tohsaka Rin had grit her teeth, with it taking almost more effort than she could muster to keep from shouting at the man – except that she knew he could have her visa cancelled on a whim if he chose, forcing her to go back to Japan.

…and while she had never felt so belittled or insulted in her life, even by _Kirei,_ she just knew that if she was sent home from the Tower in disgrace for offending one of its Lords, the fake priest would never let her hear the end of it.

So she'd held her tongue as he settled for throwing her out of his office, telling her not to come back until she learned to talk about games like _Matou_ or some other civilized Japanese person.

" _After all, you live with him, don't you?"_ the man had asked sharply. " _Surely you talk about more with him than the delusions of romance that are all too common among girls your age."_

' _How dare he?'_

Rin had seethed as she stalked from the British Museum and boarded the tube, returning to the house Matou had bought for her use, where she'd proceeded to her basement workshop and had proceeded to vent her…irritation on a mannequin she'd pinned a rough sketch of El Melloi's face to, alternating punches and open hand blows with point blank _Gandr_ shots.

Call her the _worst Japanese in the world,_ would he?

Just because she didn't like games? Or because she wasn't as involved in politics as…Matou seemed to be, when he was involved with some rather terrifying individuals, considering that his _Master_ was Aozaki Touko, and he was acquainted with a Director and several Magicians?

 _Thud! Thud! Thud!_

Sometime later, she padded out of the basement to the dining room, where she found that Mashu – her housemate and housekeeper, she supposed, though the other girl was also a student at the Tower as part of the astronomy department, had fixed her a plate of Wiener Schnitzel – a thin, breaded veal cutlet that she found to be not unlike _katsu –_ alongside lettuce and onions tossed with a sweetened vinaigrette dressing, potato salad, and a small bowl of _miso_ soup.

In spite of herself, the girl smiled.

She was so used to living alone in Fuyuki that it felt…nice to have food waiting for her when she finished with her experiments, or exercises. It was also nice to find the house clean, or even just to have company sometimes, as the house seemed enormous without anyone else there – though every now and then she'd swear she heard Matou's voice – or Lovegood's – coming from upstairs.

'… _it's been a very long day,'_ she thought to herself, looking over at her metallic owl, which just hooted in agreement. _'Huh. That's right. Matou said I could use this to send letters.'_

She swallowed, not really wanting to ask for advice, as it hurt her pride…but then she could hardly use that as an argument when she was living in a house he'd bought for her.

' _Maybe he could give me some advice about El Melloi…'_

* * *

And in _Mahoutokoro_ , Fujou Shiroe – once known as Emiya Shirou – clad in a traditional _gi_ and _hakama_ ensemble, looked up after finishing the latest exercise that the _kitsune_ named Kaiduka had set before him with a hint of surprise

As usual, he'd hit the targets he was assigned, though he didn't realize quite how, as the fox had given him no projectiles.

…instead, he'd been asked to visualize a projectile hitting the target, in the way of Kyudo – Japanese Archery, and to bind imagination to reality. Apparently, some of his family's specialized techniques – like the arrows of exorcism and binding – required a mastery of the bow, and so he'd been asked to learn, but on seeing that he had gift for the basics, the fox had moved to more advanced techniques.

"Your origin is an interesting one, Fujou," the _kitsune_ had said before the little test. "Convenient, however, given that your elemental affinity."

"Oh?"

"Forge," the fox had explained, looking for all Shirou could tell like a young teenager his age. "If I am correct, in addition to imbuing your element with prana and properties, you would be able to _create_ items through projection."

"I thought projection was just a stopgap most of the time…and that it was usually too expensive to warrant using?"

"Most of the time, it is, Fujou," the _kitsune_ hadacknowledged, inclining his head. "However, there are always exceptions, such as with yourself."

So the magus had proceeded to visualize arrows hitting their targets as he pulled back on his bow, releasing the string once for each target – with the sound of something – several somethings slamming into the specially prepared hay targets…and drilling through them to hit the wall.

"Curious…" the _kitsune_ said afterwards, as he walked over to examine the closest of the metallic projectiles embedded in the walls, noting its odd shape – unlike any arrow he'd seen before. The black-haired boy touched it, grimacing as he did, and sniffed as it faded into motes of silver light. "Hmm…your affinity continues to shift, Fujou, due to the item within you. Soon, it will no longer be metal, but something else…something more specific. Should the corruption continue unchecked, it will not be worthwhile for me to teach you any further, as you will be unable to learn your family's arts."

Shiroe swallowed as the _kitsune_ turned its unnerving red eyes upon him.

"…I see. How much time do I have?" the boy inquired. He knew what was causing it, but...what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just leave an artifact of that caliber lying about, could he?

"Perhaps half a year," Kaiduka responded. "Give or take a month. Less if we continue this current string of exercises, as projection seems to speed the shift. By mid-summer though, you will need to decide whether whatever artifact you are concealing is worth losing your family's legacy. If it is, then I suppose you will no longer be the head of the Fujou, with that burden falling upon the shoulders of your young cousin."

"…and what do you suggest I do?" the boy asked, his voice almost a whisper. Should he keep Avalon within him and be changed? Remove it and embrace his past instead? And if he did, what would he do with it?

But Kaiduka Shiosai, familiar to the Maiden of the Tree, just shook his head.

"That is a decision that only you can make, Fujou, as it is tied to the heart of who you are…and who you will become."


	40. Half a League Onwards

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 40.** _Half a League Onwards_

The Great Hall was abuzz with whispers and muttered speculation as Matou Shinji and Luna Lovegood meandered over to the table set aside for Ravenclaw House and sat down for breakfast together. In the past few months, it had become an exceedingly rare event for anyone at Hogwarts to see either of them this early in the day.

No surprise, really, given that they tended to frequent haunts that most of the school had no idea existed, or if they did, had no access to: the Room of Requirement, the Kitchens, Founders' Tower. Indeed, they'd come right from a training session where, safe from the prying eyes of others, the two had come against one another with the full force of their abilities, wind against earth, fire and light against all-engulfing darkness, in a titanic clash that left their hair and clothing somewhat…disheveled.

…needless to say, this only fed the overactive the rumor mill as to exactly _what_ the two were up to in the mornings, especially as no one had seen Hermione Granger as of late either – though the news of her impending transfer to the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts had stirred a measure of interest.

Why, some of her peers asked, would someone who had such high marks – who was perhaps the best in her year at Transfiguration, and was one of the most talented Potioneers at Hogwarts – choose to leave all that behind to pursue…theatre? It seemed like…such a waste.

Others noted the fact that she and Matou didn't seem to spend time together anymore and wondered if what they had imagined to be fairy-tale romance between the Granger and the Boy from the East had proven to be only fantasy in the end, especially since it had become known that Lovegood and Matou trained together, or perhaps more than that.

Rumors had a way of growing with each retelling, after all.

Some of the younger students – those who were not yet in their O.W.L. year and who hadn't been caught up by the juicy rumors of romance or teenage drama—simply admired the fact that Granger had the courage to leave everything else behind, the courage to follow what was apparently her dream, without a Hogwarts education as a safety net in case she should fall short.

There were several of _them_ who wanted to be singers, after all, to be actors, playwrights, radio show hosts, special effects wizards, or something else entirely – none of which the finest Wizarding School in Britain would prepare them for—instead of working for the Ministry in one fashion or another. Yet except in their heart of hearts, they wouldn't admit to wanting to leave Hogwarts for somewhere perhaps better suited to pursuing their dreams, because they were afraid they wouldn't make it – and then what?

Older and wiser students who _had_ taken their O.W.L. exams, some of whom had faced disappointment and failure, being told their grades weren't good enough to qualify them for a position as an Auror, Healer, or whatever they had aspired to, tended to think Hermione Granger a fool.

Yes, it was a good thing to have dreams, to aspire to become something more than ordinary, but at the end of the day, when reality came knocking, dreams had to take second place to finding a way to get by so one didn't starve, as one could not feed oneself with fantasies. And however talented Granger might be, whatever she thought she could accomplish, these others thought she would regret her decision soon enough. If not now, then when she finished her time at W.A.D.A. and found herself just another hopeful among many, unqualified for a Ministry job and lacking the connections to help her find suitable employment if her plans fell through.

Some had even taken it upon themselves to try and make the girl see the error of her ways, approaching her and telling her how wrong she was to leave Hogwarts, how her parents surely must be ashamed of her selfishness, how she was throwing away her future – until the Head Boy intervened. After breaking up one of these "well-intentioned" attempts, he'd talked with Miss Granger, learning that she genuinely did want to pursue theatre, had talked things over with her surprisingly supportive parents, and further, had Lockhart's backing in the matter, much as he'd already suspected.

As impetuous as teenagers could be, Miss Granger hadn't struck him as someone who would act without thinking. And in a place like the Wizarding World, where too many were forced to give up what they loved for lack of opportunity, if the opportunity presented itself, why _shouldn't_ she go for it? After all, it was what _he_ had done.

So, instead of urging her to reconsider, Robert Hillard had stated publicly that Hermione Granger had made her choice, and that further attempts to intimidate her or offer unwanted advice would be seen as harassment and duly punished. Even then, a few intrepid Ravenclaws had pressed the issue, whereupon Hillard had docked points from his own house, assigning the miscreants to detention _with Professor Snape_ as a show of how serious he was.

The harassment had ceased after that, as no one had any intention of getting on the Head Boy's bad side, even if some thought that his judgment was clouded, given that he was a prodigy who had demonstrated the ability to achieve anything he set his mind to, and Granger…wasn't. She was intelligent, certainly, skilled in spellwork and excellent in all things academic, but she'd never seemed…extraordinary.

Not like Robert Hillard or the other Stone Cutters had. Not like the Boy-Who-Lived or Matou Shinji. Not even like Luna Lovegood.

Still, they _had_ stopped, with other topics rising to fill the void: Draco Malfoy's departure from the Ourea, the source and nature of Matou Shinji's vast fortune (with which he'd outright bought the Black House), whether Matou or Potter would become Potions Champion of Hogwarts and what such a thing would entail, and juiciest of all, the relationship between Matou and Lovegood, and why they had come to be in the Great Hall today, when they were so seldom seen otherwise.

And while they would probably never get a good answer to the first two topics, and it would probably be some time before there was anything relevant to discuss concerning the third and fourth, they received an answer to the fifth in minutes, as the morning mail came in, with the duo collecting a staggering number of parcels from the delivery owls before leaving for Founders' Tower.

* * *

"…whoa…this is wicked," Fred murmured, admiring himself – and his sleek new robes – in a mirror Matou had had a house elf bring to the Tower for that very purpose.

Charcoal grey robes, these, designed with combat in mind, with reinforced wrists and neck, two wand-holsters, a belt of red spider-silk rope, a leather utility belt with mokeskin pouches for equipment…and a hood that reminded him of an eagle for some reason.

Coupled with enchanted boots and trousers fresh from _Mahoutokoro_ , along with the gloves Matou had given him for Christmas, the boy's appearance was rather…striking. All the more so since he'd never seen garments built for such deadly purpose.

"I must admit, when you mentioned that you would handle getting protective garments, I didn't think you meant _dragonhide,_ " Hillard said dryly, going through a series of basic movement exercises while decked out in a similar ensemble. "Even after you made us all get measured at _Twilfitt and Tattings_ over the holidays. This stuff is…"

…he trailed off, shaking his head. Somehow, _'expensive'_ didn't seem to be expansive enough to say what he wanted.

"This stuff, nothing. Have a look at _Matou_ ," George noted, blinking as he watched the Boy from the East.

The Boy from the East hadn't yet donned his own set of wyvernhide robes, with the enchanted clothing he wore beneath quite visible as he sparred against a robe-clad Luna. Not an off-the-shelf set either – this had been a custom set, tailored specifically for him, as the second portion of what he'd gotten for paying off Aozaki Touko's four million pound debt to her _sister._

Their movements were an eerie mirror of the other, the spell beams from his wand being deflected by the girl's over and over again, as Matou growled, a haze of darkness seeping from his body into his garments as he _accelerated._

"…look at _that,"_ Hillard breathed, eyes widening as the boy's body _blurred –_ as did his opponent's.

Spellbeams shot faster, faster, faster still as Matou Shinji struck again and again, but each one was deflected harmlessly to the ceiling or the floor or ceiling, which as Auror-in-training noted, took a great deal of skill.

For about half a minute this continued until both figures came to a halt, with Shinji's wand not a millimeter from Luna's nose, and hers at her side, as slate grey eyes stared into thoughtful silver orbs.

"Check," the boy remarked, a thin smile on his face from the sheer speed and power conferred to him by these garments – so long as he had prana to spend, of course.

"Mate," the girl replied, as a flash of golden light sent the boy flying into the wall with a crash, his wand flying into a waiting hand. With a smile, she doffed her hood to reveal two pure-white ears like those of an arctic fox adorning her head. "Not as fast or powerful as fusion. But not bad, all things considered."

"…ugh," Shinji grumbled as he pulled himself to his feet. "Was it even close?"

The girl shook her head, as the Boy from the East groaned.

"You let down your guard on purpose," the Matou scion said accusingly. "You wouldn't have done that during one of our morning spars."

But Luna only smiled.

"Of course not," she replied, curtseying to her fallen foe as she tossed him his wand. "You would have noticed that in fusion form."

"…well. That's true," Shinji allowed, shaking his head. "Guess I got a little carried away by the speed and power, and forgot that unlike fusion, it doesn't come with awareness. Nor with the innate resistance to spells."

"…so that's what you look like in Fusion form, Luna," Harry interjected, frowning as he took in the sight of the girl's fox-like ears. "Not exactly what I expected."

He'd heard about Fred and George's spar with Shinji from the Twins, so he knew a bit about what fusion was capable of – and from Pansy's account of the _Kobayashi,_ he surmised that Luna's fusion form involved her in a white dress and with twigs in her hair – _not_ with animal ears, as if she'd gone through an incomplete transfiguration or something.

"Mm," the girl murmured, conjuring an orb of blue flame in the palm of her hand. "The form is different, depending on who I fuse with, whether Matou's familiar or mine."

"…you can join with Matou's familiar?" Hillard inquired, his eyebrows arching upward in curiosity as he looked between the two younger Ravenclaws, with Shinji seeming almost embarrassed. "Can you join with hers, Matou?"

"No," Shinji said flatly. "Our elements and affinity are too different."

A kitsune's _fire_ and _wind_ elements weren't exactly compatible with his own water and earth, much less his strong yin-alignment.

"Interesting," Hillard noted, nodding. "I take it each form also confers different abilities? And that one of them is invisibility? Unless you own an invisibility cloak or know how to disillusion yourself, that is."

He didn't remember seeing her in the video Harry had recorded of the Hollow, after all, and of the encounter with the Acromantula.

"Yes."

"…powerful. Well, far be it from me to accept the evidence of my senses, though I would be careful about showing those ears to anyone but us. Many people in Britain are less…accepting of anything that suggests a non-human heritage."

"That much I've already mentioned," Matou broke in, glancing at Hillard. "Given that we trust each other with our lives though, I didn't think it would be a problem here."

"Certainly not. In any case, you two know your trump abilities best, so I'll allow you to decide for yourselves when to use them."

"Thank you, Robert," Shinji noted, inclining his head. "I appreciate that."

"Ah well, brother of mine," George quipped, glancing over at Fred. "It's good that scary wee ones like Matou and Lovegood are on our side."

"Indeed, Forge! Wouldn't want to get them angry, no, not us!"

"…not without familiars of our own, anyway," George finished pointedly, turning his attention to Shinji.

The Boy from the East smiled faintly. As it so happened, along with the parcels from Twilfitt and Tattings and _Mahoutokoro,_ he'd received a letter from Hijiri, granting him permission to bring two guests to the City Beneath the Earth. The other letter had come from Tohsaka, and he rather thought he'd just tell her to be herself, but be open to the hobbies of others. After all, she could stand to learn from others - just as he had.

"Well…I think that can be arranged," the Matou scion noted, as he pulled on his grey robes, finding them a perfect fit – as expected, since they were tailored for him. "This summer even."

The twins cheered, as Harry, puzzled by the exchange, just shrugged. With the new dragonhide robes, he thought they stood at least a decent chance of surviving the expedition to come. After all, they'd faced worse odds before.

"Anything else you have for us, Shinji?" Harry inquired curiously.

"Well, if he doesn't have anything, _I_ do," Hillard replied, withdrawing a slim case from his robes, which he opened to reveal six sheathed daggers.

"What are these?" Shinji asked, as the Head Boy handed one to each of the Stone Cutters, with the Boy from the East, noting that while it was neither goblin-forged, nor goblin-silver, being jet black in color, it had a sleek, dangerous quality to it, with runes etched onto the surface of the blade.

"A holiday gift from Lockhart," the Head Boy explained, shaking his head. "After all, a knife is as useful to an adventurer as a wand to a wizard – or so he tells me."

Personally, Shinji thought Lockhart had substituted adventurer for assassin, but that was neither here nor there.

"And what do they do?" the boy asked. He recognized some of the runes on them, but as a whole…

"A few things. They can open any door, untie any knot, undo simple enchantments, and…" Hillard trailed off, frowning as he recalled the man's last words.

"…and?"

"Cut through any magical barrier…" the seventh year said quietly, with Shinji narrowing his eyes as he recalled another blade he knew of which was capable of disrupting prana and prana constructs.

The Hidden Blade - _signature weapon of the Order of Assassins._

That these weapons were crafted in a similar way, that Lockhart was giving them these blades…what did it mean? What did the man intend?

"Something wrong, Shinji?" Harry asked, noticing that his friend seemed a little distracted.

"No, just…thinking."

"Ah."

* * *

Time passed, with the Stone Cutters investing more and more time into their preparations and training as the drew closer, yet there some commitments they could not set aside – roles and responsibilities they had agreed to take on early in the year – or the year before.

For Hillard, one of these duties was serving as Head Boy of Hogwarts, making sure that people were assigned to patrol at all hours, that the castle was safe and that students knew they could always go to a Prefect for help if needed. Another of course, was looking over Professor Weasley's lesson plans and setting the newest member of faculty at ease.

For Harry Potter, it was Potions Boot Camp and the challenges associated with it, as he had been recognized as one of only two real contenders for the title of Hogwarts Champion – and with that recognition had come a Professor Snape who would accept nothing less than perfection in brewing and combat, filled with a drive to see his _protégé_ succeed bordering on obsession.

For the Twins, there was their impromptu arrangement to keep Matou Shinji at speed, making sure he'd continue to be a viable contender for Potions, giving him compressed variants of same challenges – and a few of their own – while they involved him in brewing what was required for the great Spider Raid.

For Luna, there were her duties as a member of the Ourea, helping the new members get to know more about what was expected of them – especially the new Ravenclaws.

And for Matou Shinji, there was about double what each of the others dealt with normally, given his responsibilities to the Ourea, the Potions training he was receiving, the advanced coursework he was dealing with in Ancient Runes, advanced Charms training, and his work looking over Professor Weasley's lesson plans.

It was the last of these that he and Hillard were doing now, making a few notes and suggestions here and there as Arthur Weasley looked on.

"I think you should be fine by yourself from here on, Professor," Hillard was saying as he handed the man the lesson plans for his NEWT classes, with the man glancing over them, his eyebrows lifting as he noted only minimal revisions this time. "It seems like you've just about gotten the hang of things."

"Ah…are you sure about that?" the Charms Professor asked, with the man looking less than entirely confident. "It's true that nothing has gone wrong this year, but…I still don't think I measure up to Flitwick."

"You're a good man and you love what you do," the Head Boy replied, inclining his head to the Weasley patriarch. "Your lessons are interesting. You work with your students to see what they're having problems with and modify your plans accordingly – which is why we had so much to do this year, and the students see that you care. You don't have to fill Professor Flitwick's shoes. Just fill your own."

"Huh." Arthur grunted. "Huh. Well, thank you." The man paused, a distant expression on his face for a moment. "You both have been a tremendous help with all this, you know."

"Hm? But we just looked over lesson plans, and what you had was already pretty solid," Shinji protested, only for Professor Weasley to hold up hand for silence.

"That alone means a lot, you know," the man replied. "It hasn't been easy becoming a professor, to actually be looked at with respect, to be looked _to_ for things. A year ago, I was just a low level official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, working in an office the size of a broom closet and trying to make ends meet. I had a few friends, certainly, but by and large, most people didn't know or care I even existed. Except Molly and kids. And then I came here."

Arthur chuckled, a wistful smile playing over his lips as he looked at empty seats in the classroom that was _his_.

"People expect things of me. They look to me as an example, turn to me for advice. Takes some getting used to, really."

"Believe me, I know the feeling," Hillard replied, meeting the Professor's gaze with his own. Before helping to found the Stone Cutters and fighting off that troll, he'd been just another Prefect himself, a dutiful, diligent youth, but one who no one really looked up to.

That had changed, more and more as the years went by, and now his status as Head Boy was almost secondary to the fact that he had been awarded the Order of Merlin (Second Class).

"…I suppose you would at that, Robert." Arthur Weasley smiled slightly, before looking over at Shinji, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Oh, and Matou?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for making arrangements for Fred and George to study abroad this summer – for free, at that," the man said, dipping his head to the surprised boy. "Yes, I know that was you. Whatever the official correspondence might have said, since the Twins sons mentioned that you had gone out of your way to help them because they'd asked."

Well, Shinji supposed that was true, except that the Twins had made that a condition of their helping him prepare for the Potions Competition…

"I know they've always wanted to see something beyond Britain, like their brothers," Arthur continued, "but with everything going on these past two years, there's been no time for a family vacation." His expression soured as he shook his head. "Doesn't look like there's going to be one this summer either, not with us having to move from the Burrow."

"Move?" Hillard asked, raising an eyebrow. "Fred and George didn't say anything about that.

"That's because they don't know yet," the Professor noted, shaking his head as he recalled what had happened.

No surprise really, as he didn't want to admit that the Burrow had fallen afoul of a random inspection from the Ministry, which had discovered his family's illegal application of Extension Charms, which he'd been forced to use in order to make sure the house had enough space for his children as they were growing up.

Granted, no harm had come to anyone, but it had been a clear violation of the law, nonetheless, as Extension Charms were not permitted for private use, and were approved _only_ for the production of objects which had been individually approved for manufacture by the relevant Ministry Department.

As a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he'd _known_ this – which was why the Chief Warlock was taking action against him, as Lucius Malfoy had been adamant about cracking down on "corruption" and abuse in the Ministry, ensuring that those charged with enforcing the law obeyed it themselves.

What kind of example would it set for others if the watchmen were to break the law without consequences, after all?

However, since he was no longer a member of the Department, Malfoy had offered him a one-time deal: move out of the Burrow and be spared Azkaban, or else…

"How much time do we have?" he'd asked.

"Until Hogwarts lets out for the summer, Arthur," Lucius had answered, iron in his tone. "If you have not vacated the Burrow before then and surrendered the deed to the estate, the law will be enforced."

But that… wasn't much time at all, and with his meager savings…

"Lucius, please…"

"I'm sorry, Arthur," the Chief Warlock had replied, his voice _almost_ sympathetic. Almost. "But the law is the law. Offering you as much as I have is already a stretch. Keep the Burrow and you and your wife will go to Azkaban, or surrender the deed and remain free. Which will it be?"

"Lucius. I mean, Chief Warlock, with all due respect, where will we go?" The last thing in the world that Arthur Weasley wanted to do was grovel to Lucius Malfoy, but for the sake of his family…he would do whatever he had to. "You must know the Weasley family's financial situation. The reason we had to use Extension Charms in the first place. I—"

"That is not my concern, Arthur." And then Lucius Malfoy had smiled – a cold, terrible expression that sent a shiver down the Weasley patriarch's spine. "I have offered you all I am prepared to, and you are in no position to bargain. Do you accept my terms, or shall I call for the Aurors?"

There had been only one possible answer.

"…I accept," he'd forced himself to say, no matter that he hated it – hated Lucius for putting him in this position – hated himself for having to do what he had to.

His home.

The home he had raised his children in.

He would surrender it to his mortal enemy – because if he didn't, it was going to be taken from him, and with it, his freedom. And for that, _for that,_ he would owe the man.

"Good. I will expect the deed to the Burrow by the end of term, Arthur. Don't forget."

Given the short timeframe and the state of his savings account, there had been only one option open to him: moving into Hogwarts. As a Professor, he already had living quarters here, so all he had to do was convince two others that this was the best option for him.

Headmaster Flitwick, of course, was one.

Molly was the other.

And while the headmaster had agreed readily enough, as there were plenty of unused rooms in the Castle, enough to allow for family quarters for all of the staff, Molly had not.

She'd raged at him, asking him why he had just given in, why he hadn't _fought_ for their home – for them? She didn't seem to understand that if he _had_ , the Chief Warlock would have thrown him in Azkaban, and then where would the family be?

"Arthur…how can you just give up the Burrow to Lucius Malfoy of all people?" Molly had whispered. "It's our home. The one we built together. The house we made for ourselves when we had nowhere else to go. Where our children grew up. Where Ronald and Ginevra are still…"

"Molly…please." It had pained him to admit it, but… "I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice, Arthur!" she'd snapped at him. "What was it you told each one of our sons? That you told our daughter? That no one can force you to do something you don't want to? So how could you—"

"I did it for you! For us!" he all but shouted, before going silent, shaking his head. "Molly, Lucius would have…he would have sent us both to Azkaban."

"He…he wouldn't dare!" the Weasley matriarch had answered. "Why, if Dumbledore were around, he'd..."

"…Dumbledore's dead, Molly," Arthur replied in a thoroughly defeated tone, closing his eyes. "The Order is gone. And you and I both know who is pulling Fudge's strings."

"What about—what about Fred and George?" Molly had asked. "After all they've one for Britain and Malfoy, surely he can do something for—"

"I'm not pulling my sons into this, Molly. I don't want them to have to deal with Malfoy – to owe him, like we…like _I_ owe him."

"Owe him?!" Molly had screeched. "How could you possibly owe him—"

"He could have hauled us before the Wizengamot and made examples of us!" Arthur had snapped, a man pushed past his limits. "In fact, he'd probably love nothing more than to do so. When Dumbledore tried to reinstate the Order of the Phoenix, he asked us to join, after all."

"Then why hasn't he done it already?" Molly had asked archly. "In your rush to throw yourself on the Chief Warlock's mercy, did you ever ask yourself that?"

"Maybe I didn't," Arthur had admitted, words that caused Molly's eyes to flash angrily. "But do you really want to spit in the face of a man who could destroy you and your entire family when he's giving you a way out?"

"Lily wasn't afraid to." Molly's reply had come in a terrible whisper far more cutting than anything she could have shouted. "Neither was James."

"And look what happened to them! They died. Died meaninglessly, with their son becoming an orphan! Is that really what you want, Molly?" the man has asked, his expression twisted with anguish. "To fight when we have no chance, and lose everything? To leave our children alone because we didn't know when to give up?"

"Arthur…"

"Lucius is giving us a way out. A way to stay out of Azkaban. A way to watch our children grow up, without them being ashamed that their parents went to prison."

"How do you know he'll keep his word?" his wife had asked him. "Lucius Malfoy is a slimy, sleazy…"

"…because we'd owe him. And that makes us useful," Arthur said grimly. "That's why I don't want our sons involved. Sure, they might get us a better deal, but then _they'd_ owe him, and I don't want that kind of debt hanging over their heads."

"And all we have to do is give up our home."

The Weasley patriarch sighed, shaking his head.

"…yes."

"Fine, but…Hogwarts?"

"Let's face it, Molly, our children and I spend more time there than at the Burrow anyway. For them, Hogwarts might as well be their home."

"But…" She'd been about to say that without a kitchen, how would she teach Ginevra to cook, but that was a minor thing in the end, compared to what they still had. "Well…alright." Her shoulders had slumped, with the woman seeming old and defeated. "If you really think that's what is best."

"Sadly? I do."

That had been only a week ago, and the pain was still fresh. He took some small comfort in the fact that his students enjoyed his lessons, in the fact that he was getting better as a teacher, in the fact that the Twins, Ginny, and even Ron seemed to be growing up well, but…even so, the thought of telling his children was...heartbreaking.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Hillard inquired, a friendly hand steadying the older man.

"I've been better admittedly," the Charms Professor answered, with a ghost of a smile. "I've just been going through a lot lately."

"Mm."

"Ah, that reminds me," Shinji said as he finished going over lesson plans for third year and below. "I have something for you."

"Besides my lessons plans, you mean?" the man asked dryly.

Instead of replying, Shinji just withdrew a pair of VIP Tickets to the Quidditch World Cup from his mokeskin pouch and handed them to the Professor. He'd received these from Lucius Malfoy as a courtesy for his assistance with the politics of determining the TriWizard Tournament's location, but he didn't really need them.

And with everything else going on, he thought the Charms Professor was mostly likely to have a use for them, given how strongly a love of Quidditch ran in the Weasley family.

Professor Weasley took the tickets – and the lesson plans – with a nod, glancing over them briefly as he—and then his eyes went back to the tickets.

"These are…!" he breathed. "Tickets to the Quidditch World Cup?" And not just tickets, he realized, but VIP tickets for the Top Box, the very best seats of all, reserved for the Ministers of the two teams in the finals, the commentator, and other privileged guests.

With only 20 seats available, the price of such tickets was staggering, with each one costing more than he would make in an entire year – no, five years! – as a Professor. If he was still part of the Ministry, perhaps he could have obtained such tickets from one of his friends in Magical Games and Sports, but…it wasn't likely.

And now Matou Shinji was just giving him _two?_ This kind of generosity simply beggared belief…

'… _though this is the boy who bought the Black estate…'_

"So they are," Shinji confirmed, seeming quite indifferent to the cost. "I'm not going to be in Britain this summer, and with how much your family loves Quidditch, I thought you could use them more than I could. Consider it a thank you for your lessons this year, and for being a good teacher."

"I…" For once in his life, Arthur Weasley was utterly speechless. With tickets, along with those from the Twins, who would likewise be out of Britain, he, his wife, and those of his children still in the country – Ginny, Ron, Percy (and his girlfriend Penelope) – would all be able to attend the Cup in once in a lifetime splendor. "I don't know what to say."

"Thank you is usually appropriate," Shinji quipped, with the man smiling slightly as the boy's simple words.

"Well…thank you, Matou."

* * *

Before they knew it, the appointed day was upon them: March 14, 1994 – otherwise called White Day, almost two years to the day after the ill-fated quest for the Philosopher's Stone, with the Stone Cutters gathered in Founders' Tower, suited up in their robes and enchanted garments, doing last minute checks on their equipment.

The Twins were filling a few last vials with potions for the battle ahead, brews to enhance stamina, healing, strength and sharp thinking, antidotes to any number of poisons, explosive potions in case they got backed into a corner and more.

Harry was fiddling with his new glasses, a set he'd ordered from a lens crafter in Hogsmeade, modeled after Muggle sports goggles to provide both eye protection – and more importantly, to stay on his head in the thick of battle.

There would be no telling how bad things got tonight, and he intended to see things though to the end.

Hillard was looking out the window at the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts, a smile on his face as he considered the conditions in which they were to fight.

The colder the better, given the colder it was, the worse the spiders would have it – with many of them not even awake yet, while they'd be quite comfortable in their enchanted, climate-charmed clothing and dragonhide robes.

Once more he was about to lead a team into a situation they might not return from, knowing that they chose to follow him of their own free will, that they trusted him despite what had happened two years ago. He hoped Sokaris forgave them for failing her then, and that if she was watching, she would wish them luck, wherever she was.

Still, at least they had allies. They were stronger than when they'd gone on their first adventure – and they'd even have Peeves with them, with the Poltergeist loaded down with weapons and explosive ofuda to fire at will.

The look of glee on the spirit of chaos' face would have warmed Hillard's prankster heart if this were any other day. But today, he had simply nodded and told the spirit to meet them outside the doors of the Great Hall, just after midnight.

He turned back to the room, smiling slightly as he saw Matou and Lovegood sitting side by side, dressed in their robes, reading through an edition of the _Quibbler_ as they shared a steaming mug of hot white chocolate, with their familiars perched on their heads.

These were his friends.

His comrades.

His brothers in arms.

Those he trusted beyond all others, and those who trusted him.

"Weasleys, is everything is in place?" he asked quietly, moving over to where the twins were finishing the last of their potions.

"Yes, Robert."

"To the best of our knowledge."

"The barrier is ready."

"Anything spiderlike will fry once we put it up."

"Good work," he said, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "At least we know they won't escape, whatever else happens."

The Head Boy walked onwards, coming to stand beside Shinji and Luna, who looked up at him with curious expressions on their faces.

"Have you two decided?" Hillard inquired.

"Yes," Luna answered. "I'll begin fused with Pandora."

"And I'll hold my trump in reserve, should we need it," Shinji added. "With the added mobility and power of my equipment, I should be fine."

"See that you are. I trust you two to know your abilities best."

And then Robert Hillard made his way over to the Boy-Who-Lived, who looked up at his approach.

"Is it time, Robert?"

"Just about, Harry. Are you ready?" the seventh year asked of his young friend.

"If I said no, would it matter?" Harry joked, a pained smile crossing his lips for just a moment, before it was gone. "It's harder this time, you know. After what happened…"

"I know, Harry. I know." The Head Boy sighed, shaking his head. "But no, I guess it wouldn't. We have to do this before the weather thaws, or it will be impossible, and that takes a little more time than what is merely very difficult."

"Right. Besides, I was the one who suggested going after them in the first place, right?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked. "At least Voldemort isn't involved this time."

"Well, that's one hell of a bright side, Harry."

And with that, Hillard broke away.

"In case I don't get to say this later," Robert said, his voice pitched to carry to the room as a whole, a soft smile on his face as he looked over the faces of his brothers-in-arms, those who had fought beside him, those who would march with him even into hell itself. "It's been an honor and a privilege knowing each and every one of you. What we're about to do some would call impossible, and others would call mad. But we – we are Stone Cutters, for us, the difficult is easy – the impossible just a little harder."

As their _de facto_ commander, he met their eyes, one after another, nodding as he recognized their contributions, their dedication, and all they had brought.

"For months we have prepared for what is to come. For months we have drilled, relentlessly training for the trials before us. For months we have honed our skills, helping one another, testing one another, helping one another grow. And if a day may come when our courage fails, when every one of our skills, surprises, and powers is not enough, it will not be this day. A day may come when fangs and feet and howls loom over shattered wands and torn robes, when all we have fought for is lost, but that is not this day. For this day we fight! Stone Cutters, are you with me?"

The answering roar stirred his blood and made him very proud.

"Then let us go. Kizzy!"

With a _crack,_ the house-elf appeared, wide-eyed and bowing.

"How can Kizzy be helping young masters?"

"Take us out."

Another crack sounded, and with that, the Stone Cutters vanished.

* * *

Looking out over the battlements of Hogwarts at the snow-covered world below, Gilderoy Lockhart was the only one who witnessed the Stone Cutters appearing outside the door of the Great Hall, six hooded figures in charcoal grey robes – joined by one spirit of chaos – marching with grim purpose towards the Forbidden Forrest, where their destiny awaited.

" _Theirs not to make reply, / Theirs not to reason why, / Theirs but to do and die,"_ he murmured as he watched them go, quoting from a poem over a century old.

Somehow, it seemed appropriate…

…as into the hollow of death, strode the six hunters.


	41. Master of Death

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 41.** _Master of Death_

Screams of pain echoed through the night as orbs of blue flame swooped down again and again, searing through the narrow waists of the Acromantulae it hit and cleaving the spiders in twain, separating the segment of their bodies which held their brains, fangs, and most of their legs…from that which held their hearts.

An odd quirk of spider anatomy was that their cephalothoraxes – their heads and chests – were connected to their abdomens by only a thin cylinder of tissue. This, of course, gave them extreme flexibility, allowing them to bring their spinnerets to bear – or to launch their attack of needlelike hairs without turning around, and for the most part, was a great advantage.

With their innate resistance to spells, after all, they were a terror to even well-trained wand wizards, as few, if any, were capable of exploiting their weakness.

…sadly for the Acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest, Luna Lovegood in fusion form was one of those rare few, seeming the very angel of death herself as she floated above the earthworks erected by the Stone Cutters, raining death upon the evil-shaped forms swarming towards her comrades below.

Wind blades, orbs of fire, chain lightning – all these and more she used, thinning the endless stream of foes.

Below her, the hollow was a ruin, the ground melted in places, scorched, caved in and cratered from some titanic blast, littered with pieces of hundreds of Acromantulae, walking carcasses that had been cut up, seared, _half-melted_ by the fiery onslaught.

They screamed, but their comrades could not spare a moment, as they skittered over the corpses of the fallen towards the mirror-smooth walls of the Stone Cutters' redoubt, seeking vengeance against the hated _humans_ who had brought them _death,_ hurling themselves forward.

…only to be slaughtered themselves.

Some – the lucky ones – were engulfed in fireballs that tore apart their bodies before they had time to even realize what had happened.

Others suffered longer, as spikes of stone shot out of the ground and ripped through their heads, piercing their brains and vital organs, pinning them in place as they thrashed and screamed and died.

Yet others met their end at the hands of a madly cackling poltergeist with jet-black knives, its blades hissing as they pierced the meagre protection of the arachnids' carapaces and ripped apart the long tubes just beneath the surface of their abdomen that served as their hearts, dark blue blood splattering on the ground as their limbs weakened and gave way.

The few – the very few – who managed to reached the walls and begin their ascent, slamming their legs into the surface of the newly transfigured stone found their legs cut out from under them, as their limbless bodies fell shrieking back into the encroaching mass below, only to be trampled underfoot by an endless tide of fangs and claws.

How many had they killed? Matou Shinji didn't know. He didn't want to know, as he hurled yet another Acromantula from the walls with his two wands, a sharpened stake of stone rising to meet it as it fell, running it through with a sound lost in the din.

He just knew that however many it had been, there were still more, as he downed a vial of Wiggenweld Potion, sighing as he felt a second wind take hold. As he knew that if he was down there, among the spiders, he would have been long dead.

For though his wyvernhide armor would turn fang and claw and needle hair, though it was impervious to venom, resisted fire, cutting wind, and spells, it would not protect him from the sheer physical _force_ of a blow.

And while _fusion_ could, making him nigh invulnerable for as long as he was joined with his familiar, the Matou scion knew he was no master of the technique.

The longest he'd managed at a time was a few hours _without combat_ , and if his protections should falter for even a single moment while he was down in that charnel house…

A fell shudder ran down his spine at the thought.

Some things weren't worth thinking about.

He broke from his reverie in time to blast yet _another_ spider from the walls, though for every one he took down, another took its place.

Eventually, even the best of them would tire. And if that happened…

"Hanging in there, Matou?"

The distraction of Hillard's voice was welcome, though the older teen's fatigue was evident from his stance.

"Still alive," Shinji replied tersely. "The two vials of Girding Potion I took beforehand helped. Strengthening Solution as well."

Foul-smelling and foul-tasting as Girding Potion may have been, the golden liquid had granted him extra endurance for a number of weeks, much as the turquoise liquid of strengthening solution boosted his magical ability in terms of the amount of prana he could use and his prana regeneration rate – something he found quite welcome at this time.

"And whatever else you took to come up with your mad plan of moving the redoubt forward like this," Hillard noted grimly, shaking his head. "I had thought to enter and exit the barrier of runes so we could rest, not to engage the entire host at once! Still, there is something to be said about forcing them to come at us instead of having to hunt them down in their burrows. I hadn't been much looking forward to that."

"To be honest, neither was I," Shinji said dryly, as he handed a number of earth-elemental _ofuda_ to Peeves, who had come up to the Tower for replacements for the depleted mines about its base.

"Anything else you can give to ol' Peevesey?" The spirit of discord grinned, his insubstantial body glowing faintly blue in the darkness of the witching hour. There was no moon tonight, only the cold light of the stars, and many hours before the dawn. "Any more implements of destruction and death?"

The Boy from the East chuckled and handed Peeves a few orbs of compressed explosive _ofuda._

"Of course Peeves. Give 'em hell."

"Better yet, I'll send 'em to it!" the poltergeist crowed with something that resembled a salute, as he floated from the several meter tall walls and down to the killing field below, where the frenzied spiders rushed at _him_ , eager to have something they could rip and tear and shred…only for him to go insubstantial, leaving nothing behind but a glowing orb that—

 _BOOM!_

—exploded in their faces, stunning them all as he cut them to the quick, their bodies collapsing as he stabbed them over and over and over, allowing him to break free and go on his merry way, laying earth-elemental mines haphazardly as he went.

Up above, Hillard watched Peeves curiously.

"You know, it might be just me, but I think he's enjoying this far too much," the Head Boy remarked, given the maniacal glee with which the poltergeist cut down his foes, indulging the burning hunger for chaos and destruction that was its very nature.

"It's keeping me alive. I'm not complaining," Shinji shot back, with Hillard conceding the point.

"Between him and Lovegood, few enough make it to our redoubt's walls, and the smell of death and fire…it must terrify them."

"Doubt it," Harry interjected, as _Sectumsempra_ – one of the most powerful spells in his arsenal – cut a rearing spider in two, after it had been swarmed by a dozen miniature dragons and set aflame. "Probably just makes them angry. Angry enough to keep coming at us, whatever the cost. Well…as long as Lovegood can hold out above, anyway."

The Boy-Who-Lived glanced at Shinji, as he himself had no idea how long Lovegood could last in fusion form, given the devastation she was wreaking on their enemy's ranks. Given that he'd never seen Shinji use it himself, he hadn't imagined it wasn't something that could be maintained for hours, but since the beginning, the fox-eared girl hadn't let up for a moment.

"She'll hold," Shinji answered without a trace of doubt. "You doing alright yourself, Harry? You've been using that cutting spell a lot, though your aim is even better than usual."

"…my arm _is_ getting a bit tired," Harry admitted, rubbing his right arm as he felt the soreness spread. "As for my aim…well, thank Felix."

"Felix?" Shinji echoed, raising a slim eyebrow, his face illuminated now and then by the flashes of explosions from below and the runic barrier above. "You took yours tonight too, eh?"

"Naturally. We're outnumbered more than a hundred to one, and I'm not about to let any one of us die tonight if there's anything I can do to stop it. Not when this…" he gestured at the wide sweep of earth below, with enormous spiders crawling over every inch. "Coming here at all was my idea. Just like first year."

He turned back to the wall, two _ofuda_ shooting from his sleeves into the maw of yet another spider and blowing it away with a muffled _whump-BOOM,_ with Shinji critically noting the shattered head of the Acromantula – and that in all likelihood, the venom would be unsalvageable.

"Look, there's more where that came from," Harry huffed, avoiding Shinji's gaze as he took note of the vast numbers issuing forth from subterranean burrows, so many that the ground was a roiling, gleaming mass of black, an unbroken wall of spiders.

"…I do believe you're right about that," Shinji conceded, though he glanced not at the horde coming towards them, but at the walls, which were still mirror smooth, despite the abuse they'd suffered.

' _How are you holding up, Zelkova?'_ he asked of his familiar, given that the _kodama_ , not he, had been the one to raise the works on which they stood – and who was healing the stone and maintaining the runic field, trapping the spiders in this prison of death – and preventing any from taking advantage of the footholds their brethren tore into the walls.

'… _so much death. So much fire. Such…destruction…'_

The familiar's reply…was not encouraging.

'… _are you alright, Zelkova?'_ the boy hazarded, feeling a little concerned.

If his familiar faltered, if he proved unable to endure that had been asked of him, then these works would eventually crumble and the field would fall, with the Acromantulae making good their escape.

Shinji hadn't worried been worried, given that Zelkova had always been a presence he found utterly dependable, no matter what the situation. Whether it was teaching him how to harness his elemental affinity, helping him learn to initiate fusion, or working with him in the various challenges posed to him by Snape, the _kodama_ had never faltered even in the face of adversity.

Yet tonight, the _kodama_ did not seem – did not feel – like himself.

What the Boy from the East was feeling across the link he shared with the spirit was odd, a sense of overwhelming anxiety, fear, _despair_ greater than he'd ever felt before.

' _Zelkova?'_ he repeated, more urgently now, his lips curving into a frown. _'Talk to me. What's wrong?'_

But there was no answer, the silence of the link a stark counterpoint to the screams and shrieks and roars from the ground below, where hundreds of lives had already been extinguished – and there were hundreds more to kill.

The smell of copper and burnt flesh wafted upwards, carried upwards from arachnid corpses burned, slashed, impaled on spikes, ripped, crushed, and killed in dozens of increasingly brutal methods, but enemy's advance did not cease, as wave upon wave came forward, climbing over the fallen, pincers hissing their fury.

Fire burned, orbs and blades tearing vast, gaping holes in their formations.

Explosions took yet more, along with spikes of earth that drilled through unsuspecting Acromantulae from below, leaving them to flail helplessly.

Miniature dragons swooped down, harrying them from above, herding them together so Luna – or Peeves – could exact a deadly price.

Yet they kept coming, with numbers enough to get past even those.

'… _ **it's coming**_ _,_ _ **Master**_ _,'_ Zelkova replied at last, as a fierce blood-curdling cry swept over the field – and the spiders rushed forward, all restraint gone, holding no thought of escape, a black wave whose only goal was to _kill_ **.**

* * *

In the days leading up to the raid, the Stone Cutters had wracked their brains for ideas on how to make the initial approach, but had come up dry. Yes, they could get the runic field up, keyed to hurt only Acromantulae, but then what? They couldn't just wait for the spiders to starve to death, for a number of reasons.

First, how much prana was needed to activate – and sustain – a field of this sort, especially if it did end up frying a number of magically resistant spiders. Second, if that were not an issue, the Acromantula colony had a known ally in Rubeus Hagrid, who would likely find a way to disable the field and investigate who had set it if they waited too long. Lockhart had agreed to run interference for one night, but...that was only for one night.

Third, even if they had unlimited prana and Hagrid never came to visit the colony, none of the Stone Cutters really wanted the spiders to turn to cannibalism to survive, mostly because that would mean a massive reduction in the amount of venom, silk, and other goods they could expect to recover.

…and given how much time, effort, and _money_ (in Matou's case) they had poured into this operation, none of them were willing to give up the prospect of a rather hefty return on investment.

Especially if the endeavor involved risking life and limb to begin with.

But try as they might, none of them had any brilliant ideas that were compatible with the scope of the operation.

Their reconnaissance parties had revealed well over a hundred spiders – close to two hundred – slumbering in the hollow, with considerably more hibernating in a network of tunnels that ran deep beneath the clearing.

In the simulations they'd ran, the group had managed to take out perhaps a score of those on the surface before the rest stirred to wakefulness, surrounding them, separating them…and overwhelming them, especially when those underground surged above to their brethren's defense.

Those in fusion form managed to cut their way free, but saving their comrades had been an exercise in futility, given the vast numbers arrayed against them.

And no one would call an operation where four out of six _died_ a success.

So a conventional ground assault had been ruled out, with the Twins being placed in charge of devising an alternative battle strategy.

They'd quickly realized that the only way that would give them even a chance of success was to neutralize the hostiles on the surface quickly, before they stirred to full awareness – and especially before those below could come to their aid.

But how?

While Peeves _might_ be able to lay earth-elemental mines underneath each of the Acromantulae as they slept, there was no guarantee they wouldn't wake before the spirit was done – and well, there was no guarantee Peeves would be any good at stealth either. One had to make allowances for the poltergeist's personality, after all.

They'd considered having Matou simply command the earth to rise and impale the spiders while in his fusion form, but the Boy from the East had vetoed that idea, given that quite frankly, he'd never done something of that magnitude before, and a risky operation where everything depended on an untested variable was not the best time to try.

Even if it worked, he probably wouldn't be able to hold Fusion for too long after that, which would limit his combat potential when the very large spiders showed up.

Having Lovegood whip up a conflagration that would burn them all to ash was also a possibility – but that posed issues as well, given that no one wanted to deal with a fire gone out of control, and that such an option would result in the total destruction of the potential wealth their foes' corpses could offer.

They'd been alone in Founders' Tower, trying to come up with some solution when Peeves had appeared, asking the Twins if they'd created any more tricksy implements of destruction and mayhem for him to carry, and something _clicked._

Their specialty was transfiguration.

They didn't have to defeat their enemy with a weapon they had – they simply had to imagine what could, and give it form.

A form…like a dragon.

 _Draconifors_ was, of course, their favorite spell, given that it let them create swarms of miniature drakes to harry opponents, swarm them, distract them while they prepared something else…but combined with something like remote untransfiguration, the spell had the potential to allow them to move large quantities of material into hazardous areas – like the Acromantula hollow - without putting themselves at risk.

They'd pulled in Matou for quick discussion of how his untransfiguration magic worked, and if he could infuse it in an _ofuda_ so it could be used at a distance.

…and when that he could, they had smiled – at least, if an expression so utterly predatory could be described in such words.

Over the last two months, they'd set up a staging area in the woods, using the Reductor Curse to turn fallen branches – and the odd bits of broken furniture that Matou supplied from no one knew where – into sawdust. This dust was made impervious to moisture via the _Impervius_ spell and then transfigured into miniature drakes via _Draconifors,_ each of which were disillusioned and tagged with an _ofuda_ that would undo the transformation after a given amount of time, before being sent off as…battlefield preparation.

So as the spiders had slumbered, deposits of sawdust began to form around the hollow. Just a little at a time, of course, without any sign of someone being present to deliver them, without any sight nor sound of something even remotely threatening to them.

Dust on the ground. Dust scattered over them, dust in their burrows, dust all around, building up and up…and up.

And then the night of the attack, the final flight had been launched, dozens upon dozens taking wing, led by a glowing blue figure which aroused some curiosity, but nothing in the way of threat as they positioned themselves around the clearing.

…until a powerful bounded field had flashed into existence, courtesy of Zelkova, and two explosions tore apart the silent night.

The first was a _crack_ , releasing a wave of pure darkness, a pulse of power through the clearing, returning the drakes to the dust they'd been crafted from, particles of wood scattering through the air and forming a fine cloud, almost as if it was snowing.

In a way, it had almost seemed peaceful…until that cloud of sawdust was touched off by a second blast, a _whump-BOOM_ of heat and light setting off a conflagration as the world _shook._

The bounded field had gone black after that, with Luna coming up to Matou's side and infusing the boundary with her yang prana, to be sure it would _hold._

Save for Zelkova and Luna, those outside didn't see – didn't feel – the urgency, as they had anticipated something that would simply shock and awe the Acromantulae inside the field, burning and distracting them so they could not fight.

For the Twins could not have known – could not have anticipated just how powerful the effects of their improvised thermobaric weapon truly were. How could they? They had no frame of reference for such things, as they'd only ever seen combat through spells – and what they had just unleashed was something more potent than even the strongest _Confringo._

The second blast detonated the cloud of airborne fuel, creating a massive blast wave that obliterated the spiders closest to it and kicked up the deposits of bone-dry sawdust the twins had taken such pains to create, igniting these as well, as blast wave after blast wave rocked the clearing…

…with the vacuum that followed collapsing the entrances to the underground burrows and causing the lungs of any spider so unfortunate as to survive the series of blast to rupture.

Violently.

And that was on top of the severe burns, the popping – and melting – of their eyes and guts…and hearts, and the way melted stone had seared through their bodies.

When the field finally had gone down, the hollow was a twisted ruin, the ground half melted, with embers smoldering as oxygen surged into the clearing, and every single spider in the clearing was dead.

Crushed, melted, hair burned off entirely, carapaces cracked wide open, with green-blue streaks around them where their blood had boiled away.

"…Merlin…" Fred had breathed, seeing what he had wrought with his own hands.

"What have we done?" George had asked, shaken by the sight of such utter destruction, as the air was filled with the sound of _laughter_ from above, as Peeves materialized from the air _,_ finding the sight of such destruction to be the most wonderful thing in the world.

Something which _he_ and the twins had brought into being.

Never before had anyone encouraged him to indulge his nature as a spirit of chaos. Never before had anyone allowed him to wreak the sort of havoc he wished. Never before had he been allowed to be a part of something so… _beautiful._

In the millennium that he'd existed, each of the caretakers had hated him in turn, as he presented a threat to their notions of order and cleanliness, fighting a bitter war against him they were destined to lose.

After all, he had all the time in the world, being amortal. He would exist as long as Hogwarts remained a school, empowered by the repressed desires and maliciousness of its students.

The caretakers had never stood a chance.

The teachers, come and go as they might, had had little patience for his antics, but there was little they could do to stop him. He was the incarnation of the wish for them to be humbled, after all, and every time a student bore a grudge against a professor, every time one felt he or she had been wronged, every time was one frustrated or humiliated, _he_ grew stronger.

The Headmasters had grudgingly tolerated him as something that came with the castle, and he in turn had tolerated them.

Well, more than tolerated in the case of Albus Dumbledore, but then, as a spirit, he could sense the power of the man's wand. Though he had never heard of the Deathly Hallows, he had known that provoking someone who wielded an artifact touched by Death itself was… _unwise_.

His fellow spirits…well, except for the Bloody Baron, Peeves could not care less about what they thought of him, though he admitted to himself that it _had_ been nice to be feted as a hero after obliterating a troll. Most of the time, though, they either envied him for being able to touch and interact with the mortal world, or saw him as a nuisance whose behavior reflected badly on the ghosts of Hogwarts

The only ones who truly accepted him, who embraced him as an equal, not a tool, not a nuisance or embarrassment – were the Stone Cutters.

They made him a hero. They allowed him to wreak destruction the likes of which no one at Hogwarts had ever seen. They brought him in on their mad, mad schemes…and didn't begrudge the occasional prank he played on them.

Well, too much, at any rate.

In the past, he'd had to limit his amusements to pranks. But they offered something more, something far more…fun.

"Peeves!"

"Mm?" the poltergeist had inquired solicitously, pausing in his merriment to look down at the Head Boy – the one who had called to him.

"Something for you, for when more spiders come," the oldest of the youths had said, tossing him a jet-black blade, which the poltergeist deftly caught in one hand.

"Here, take mine too," Matou had added, tossing him another of the lovely, lovely blades.

Robert reacted quickly, ordering the advance—

"Twins, pull back to the defensive line and get that runic barrier up now! Lovegood, mark the tunnels and prepare to suppress the enemy."

—only for Shinji to countermand them.

"No. Twins, with me," Shinji had ordered. "I'm going to raise a redoubt inside the barrier, so we can force the spiders to come to _us_. You can place the final anchor rune there."

Hillard had opened his mouth to protest, but closed it, raising an eyebrow.

"…you can do that?"

Shinji had just nodded.

"Twins, will that work?"

"Well, theoretically—"

"—we see no reason it shouldn't…"

"Huh. Alright, change of plan," Hillard conceded. No plan survived contact with the enemy, after all. "Matou, get that redoubt raised. Peeves, get those _ofuda_ mines in place. Harry, you and I will change whatever Matou raises into stone. Lovegood, suppression."

' _Alright Zelkova, it's up to you…'_

' _As you say…'_

They moved into position, with the twins drawing the final design they needed to prime and activate the runic barrier, as the ground where they stood rose into the air, extending about 4 meters above the ground.

There the rise of the area around them had stopped, save for the edges, which surged upward, forming a parapet to prevent any of them from falling, and the runic anchor itself, which rose with Fred and George higher into the another two meters as the barrier flashed into existence all around the hollow.

"It's up."

' _Zelkova, make your way to the anchor point. You can keep watch there.'_

' _As you say…'_ the spirit had seemed a bit worn, but Shinji had dismissed it, since the _kodama_ was ever calm.

Luna Lovegood went airborne, light surrounding her form as orbs of blue flame surged towards the ground, drilling through the collapsed openings of the tunnels and shooting down below, as the night was filled with the sound of screams.

Before them, the ground ruptured, hundreds of spiders emerging from the earth below. Those that had tried to flee were ignored, with the arachnids flinging themselves upon the runic boundary and burning to a crisp.

The rest, though…the rest saw the shining figure of Luna Lovegood as an enemy, and the dark tower below her as the source of their pain, charging forward as the battle was joined.

* * *

'… _ **it's coming**_ _,_ _ **Master**_ _.'_

'It? _What does Zelkova mean "it"?'_ Shinji wondered, as the battle continued, with the redoubt standing like a mountain against an endless tide of darkness, as if they fought not individual spiders but some fell beast with a thousand fangs, a being of man's darkest fears hissed and snarled and screamed.

Where one spider fell, another two took their place, as fast as – no – faster than they could kill, even as fireballs and blades of wind raked the oncoming swarm, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning blood and death.

How many had they killed?

None of the Stone Cutters knew for sure, just that their foes kept on coming, launching themselves forward without end…and that they themselves were tiring.

Harry's wand arm was hurting now, as he'd been casting without rest for what seemed like hours – and might have been. Even with potions boosting his endurance and his _prana_ , it did not eliminate the weakness of his all-too-human physiology.

"We're out of explosive potions!" Fred called down from above. "Matou, we need more mines below!"

Shinji reached into his pouch to withdraw more of his earth elemental _ofuda_ , only to find it nearly empty.

' _Oh hell…'_

Gritting his teeth, he handed them to one of the Twins' drakes, which swooped down into the melee to drop off its deadly cargo, with spikes of earth obliterating yet another rank of them as the Stone Cutters cheered.

' _ **It's here.'**_

And then he had no time to think, as the world shook once more, and the redoubt _tilted_.

"What…?" Robert asked, startled.

And then it tilted even more, and his face grew pale. "Oh no…"

He knew what it had to be. Somehow or other, the spiders must have managed to get underneath their bastion, while still sending enough aboveground that the Stone Cutters had no reason to suspect anything had changed.

"Fred. George. Use your drakes and get clear, now!" he thundered, with the Twins looking down in shock. "They're going to bring down the tower."

"But if we get clear—"

"—what's going to happen to the barrier?"

"Never mind that, worry about yourselves!" Hillard ordered. He was _not_ going to lose anyone. Not now. Not again. "Matou!"

But Shinji was beyond hearing, as his sense of self faded. His shock, his anger, his worry – all of it purged, all of it gone, as he found himself approaching the hidden door within his mind – the door behind which lay every weakness, every fear, every vulnerability he had in life.

' _Zelkova. Are you…?'_

' _I'm…right here,'_ the voice answered faintly, as Shinji opened the door, and the world _changed._

There was no Matou Shinji. There was no world.

All was _one._

"Get clear!" he called out, his eyes flashing gold as he leapt from the redoubt, diving towards the heart of the swarm below, as a vicious-looking scythe appeared in his hand as he landed with a _crash,_ his blade reaping a bloody harvest right, and left, before him, behind him.

He was surrounded, but that just made it easier for him for him to kill the enemy as he could attack in all directions, as a wave of spikes surged outwards from his position, tossing spiders into the air, impaling them, slamming them aside to clear a space on the ground for his fellows.

Above him, the others had grabbed onto the miniature drakes and were being carried clear – with volleys of needle-like hair being launched at them – needles that were deflected by robe and pants and boots, but found purchase on the transfigured objects, which were even now reeling from the additional weight.

" _Spongify_!" someone called out. " _Spongify!"_

A purple jet hit the ground, and two figures hit the ground, arms going up to protect their heads as they bounced once-twice-thrice, coming to a halt in a kneeling position as behind them, the redoubt tottered, wavered…and smashed into the ground with a thunderous _crash,_ the runic field around the forest flickering out as its anchor shattered into pieces.

Two more figures came down, one in a combat ready crouch, the other landing at a bad angle as he just missed the spongy ground.

"Ugh," Hillard grunted, as agony lanced through his legs. He couldn't pay attention to that now. After all - more and more spiders were surging up from underground in all directions, on this battlefield which smelled of death. "Well, shit."

The Acromantulae charged – and screamed as eight orbs of blue flame streaked down from above, blasting them away, with Luna Lovegood descending from the sky, fending off spiders on one side while Matou did the same on the other.

"Is everyone…?"

But Hillard's query died unasked in his mouth as he saw the Twins' expressions: hopelessly bleak.

They knew the simulations as well as he did – what the result would be if they were caught on the ground and there was no place to run – no chance for them to run. Even with Lovegood and Matou in fusion form protecting them, even with Peeves running around and slaughtering spiders willy-nilly, even with the others hurling spells as quickly they could, the enemy simply threw more and more at them.

Eventually, they would be overwhelmed – especially without the benefit of a defensive position.

Still…they would fight.

Sharp, fiery brilliance lanced from Luna's form towards the ring of spiders, who hissed fearfully at it, stumbling backward into their brethren, backing up, backing up, backing up—into a jagged forest of stone spikes that lanced up through the ground to pierce them through, creating a temporary haven for the other members of the Stone Cutters.

"Luna, how's your prana?" Matou Shinji asked, his voice taking on an odd timbre, as he bounded to the top of the spikes in a single swift movement.

"Adequate," the blonde replied, as she floated into the air, with eight orbs of brilliant blue fire floating around her form. "Do you have a plan, Matou?"

"The wind you used against the doppelgangers, can you do it again?" the boy asked, as he brutally cut down a spider who dared to venture closer.

"Mm. It won't get them all," she said, her voice ethereal. "And you'll need to shield them."

"And as many as you can will be enough." the Matou scion replied, launching the last of his _ofuda_ into the air, where they were carried by the wind about the clearing – detonating all at once and turning night into day. Then, and only then, did a bounded field go up around the circle of spikes.

Luna Lovegood floated into the air, something shimmering about her form, growing brighter and brighter and brighter, until at a pulse, _something_ surged forth.

Not just roiling waves of wind this time – but wind and flame together, a combination that raced outwards into the mob.

The closest spiders were simply obliterated, with nothing left behind but a fine blue-black mist. Those further out were melted and torn into pieces. Further yet, some were cut deeply and set aflame, bleeding out.

And some were mostly uninjured, but panicked at sheer amount of death the glowing form had wreaked.

How was this possible?

This…they had never encountered anything like this.

Oh, the Twins' improvised attack had been worse, but that had killed everything it touched, with none left alive to spread news of its terror.

Unlike now, as what spiders remained aboveground turned to flee – but as they skittered for the edge of the hollow, found themselves cut down by a storm of arrows, aiming into a mob so tightly packed they could hardly miss, driving them _back_ towards the Stone Cutters.

' _What…?'_

Hillard, looking through the cracks, was dumbfounded.

Arrows? But that meant…

' _Centaurs? What are they…?'_

Exhausted by that final surge of power, Luna Lovegood's body slumped, the magic of fusion falling away from her as Matou dematerialized his scythe and sprang into the air to catch her gently, the bounded field fading as his concentration slipped.

With her in his arms, he landed inside the ring of spikes, gazing towards the onrushing mob, gauging his chances against them all.

"Take care of her," he said to Hillard, as he sat an exhausted – unconscious – Luna against the wall of spikes.

The Head Boy had only grunted, as Shinji vaulted back across the mob and _charged,_ his body blurring as he blinked in and out of solidity, cleaved through spiders left and right as centaurs thundered out of the forest and filled the air with arrows so numerous they blotted out the sky, herding the spiders together.

…had they…had they done the impossible?

Had they…won?

And then the ground beneath the ring of spikes gave way with a roar of utter fury, and Hillard was tossed aside, his body slamming into the ring wall with a sickening _crunch,_ the wand flying from his hand at the force of impact.

With the last of his strength, he turned to see a spider larger than any that he had seen before – a large white Acromantula the size of an elephant – with a second going for Luna.

The twins and Harry were casting as quickly and furiously as they could, but their spells were doing nothing to these last creatures, with these two far more magically resistant than the others had been.

' _Matou…where's…'_

But Matou Shinji was pinned down, fighting a score of lesser beasts, and would not reach them in time, not before the spider struck.

Had they come so far to fall now…?

With its legs slamming the wall apart, the spider moved to loom over Hillard, its pincers dripping with corrosive venom.

" _ **YOU WILL PERISH."**_

The words were spat like an epithet, as it raised a leg to smash the boy flat – before a hooded figure exploded out of the night, preceded by a storm of blades.

Daggers like the ones they'd been given.

Each and every blade found purchase within a spider's flesh, striking with an absurd amount of force, as the monstrous duo reared up, unprepared for such a sudden assault, and found themselves smashed backwards into the ground by the attack's power.

Blades slammed into – through – their legs, pinning them down so they couldn't flee.

Blades ripping into their unprotected cephalothoraxes, stabbing through their guts into their brains.

Blades tearing into their abdomens, followed by a black-cloaked form who landed deftly on a spider and plunged a wrist-mounted blade its abdomen, as blood spurted everywhere.

"Noooo…the weak will per…," one moaned, before it was silenced forever by a _Reductor_ curse turning its insides to powder, its body shuddering as the spell's effect spread. "Ara…a…gog."

" _Mosag, no!"_ the other spider cried out, unable to see, but fully able to smell the death of its mate as the assassin pulled his blade free and slowly made its way towards the other. " _No. That's not possible. You…who are you…?"_

But the figure did not answer, simply repeating what he had done to the first spider, as the elephant-sized Acromantula – the one with whom the colony had begun – shuddered and went still.

"Indeed, the weak will perish, Aragog," the figure uttered in a voice Hillard _recognized,_ as the assassin slipped his hood back to reveal the solemn features of Gilderoy Lockhart. "And so this ends this twisted, tragic tale, does it not, Mister Hillard?" The man smiled ever so slightly. "As I said, Britain has no need of martyrs."

Robert Hillard's mouth worked open and closed for a number of seconds as his mind went blank.

Gilderoy Lockhart was certainly the greatest adventurer of Wizarding Britain, but what he had done just now was beyond the capability of any normal wizard Hillard knew of.

"How…?"

"…did you do that?"

The question came from the twins, and in response, Lockhart only chuckled.

"Practice, Weasleys. A great deal of it, I assure you. Though I have to say, I was rather impressed you managed to hold out this long," the Assassin noted coolly, surveying the battlefield. "Perhaps I did not need to play on the Centaurs' pride after all."

"That…was you?" Hillard asked, his voice a whisper.

But centaurs…hated wizards. How had…?

"Naturally. I thought you could use the help, after all, and while they do not tend to intervene in wizard affairs, they will not endure the shame of sitting idle while young ones – foals – fight their battles for them."

"Their battles?"

Lockhart only laughed.

"Of course, Mister Hillard, if the Acromantulae have not hunted humans – where else might they get their pound of flesh?"

"Oh…" Hillard said. "So they've been preying on…"

"Indeed," Lockhart grunted, his face grim and determined as he saw the last of the spiders finished by a combination of the centaurs and the fused form of Matou Shinji, who had dispelled his scythe and regained his crown of branches as he bowed to them.

They paused at the sight of him, startled by the boy's appearance and actions.

No wizard would bow to a centaur, after all. And with those horns and a blade fit for ushering souls to the worlds beyond…

"Cernunnos?" one whispered, swallowing, before the leader of the herd silenced him, cantering up and silencing the one who had spoken with a gesture.

"We have paid our debt," the gruff voice of Magorian uttered, bowing in turn. "The wizard foals are now safe, as you have protected ours. May the Moon watch over you, hunter."

"And forests keep you safe, child of Mars," Matou Shinji replied as he straightened, his golden eyes looking at the centaur, whose eyes widened, and bowed more deeply.

With that, the herd departed, thundering off into the distance.

The Boy from the East watched them go, before returning to the ring of spikes and bidding them lower with a gesture, showing only mild surprise at the presence of Gilderoy Lockhart – as his attention was fixed on the two giant spiders the man had slain, and the presence of his unharmed comrades.

"I heard what you said, Professor," the boy said solemnly. "Thank you."

"No need, Matou." The man said nothing else for a moment as he shook his head. "After all, I was never here."

"…ah."

"This event will be part of your legend. The legend of the Stone Cutters and their valour should it come to light. I have deeds enough without taking yours."

"But…"

"However, there is a price."

"Yes?"

"A debt, Matou Shinji," the man said quietly. "A favor I may or may not ever demand in repayment. I think that is a fair enough price for your lives."

The Stone Cutters said nothing, for what could they really say?

"For now however, it is time we deal with Rubeus Hagrid once and for all. The half-giant has visited enough misery upon this castle under Dumbledore's purview. With his master gone, it is time for the fool to go as well."


	42. Fragments of Dreams

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 42.** _Fragments of Dreams_

" _Dad, dad! What is that?"_ a young boy whispered excitedly to his father as they appeared at Platform 9¾ for the first time, his eyes widening in wonder as he saw the gleaming red locomotive that would take him to Hogwarts – and more people than he'd thought existed in the entire world. " _I've never_ _seen anything like it!"_

" _It's a train, Rubeus. The Hogwarts Express, ter be precise,"_ his father replied from his perch on the boy's shoulder – for the boy was of unusual size. Always had been, really. By the time he was six, Rubeus had already outgrown his father Amissio – who'd never been large even by wizard standards – and had amused them both carrying the older man around the house…or by setting him on top of dressers or the icebox when he was in a particularly foul mood. Still, for all his strength and carelessness, he had a good heart. " _Been takin' students to Hogwarts for more than a hundred years!"_

" _A hundred years…"_ eleven-year old Rubeus Hagrid breathed, though his expression soured as he noticed many of the others on the platform turning to look at him, some of the other children – so small, they – with curiosity, and their parents with barely-veiled disgust, as they pulled their children away, as if he was some wild, dangerous beast who would attack a person who dared to look at him the wrong way.

And perhaps he _was_ a bit wild, having grown up in the Forest of Dean, where aside from his father – and a mother he barely remembered, since she'd left them when he was three – he'd had only the creatures of the forest for company. Going to Diagon Alley to buy his wand and school supplies had been his first hint that there was a world beyond the woods of oak and beech and chestnut he'd known all his life – and his first exposure to what others thought of…thought of people like him.

 _Freaks._

Their stares and whispers had made him want to sink into the earth and disappear forever, with joy and wonder he'd felt at seeing Diagon Alley for the first time evaporating away as they judged him and found him wanting.

" _Dad,"_ he'd croaked, wanting to hide behind the older man – but knowing he physically couldn't, given that his father was far smaller than he. _"_ Why are they looking at us like that?" But then he'd noticed that none of them were looking at the older man – but at _him_. _"No, no us. At…me?"_

" _Because they're fools who don't know how to appreciate what they have, son,"_ his father had replied, smiling softly at the boy. _"Or anything different from the world they know."_

" _But…"_

" _Never be ashamed, Rubeus,"_ the man had said firmly. _"Not of what you are, or who you are. Aye, there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with. Now, let's get you yer wand."_

Young Rubeus' worry had faded as he walked into _Ollivanders_ and found a length of oak being thrust into his hands.

" _Give it a swish, lad,"_ a voice had said – one belonging to an eccentric man with pale silver eyes. _"This one should be a good fit for you."_

And indeed it had been, with red sparks shooting into the air, delighting the young boy as the wand - a study but flexible instrument of English oak, like the trees he'd felt so at home among, chose _him_ for a partner.

" _Mm, interesting. What's your name, boy?"_

" _Rubeus, sir. Rubeus Hagrid."_

" _Rubeus…you don't say,"_ the man had echoed softly. _"A curious name."_

After all, Rubeus – Latin for "Red" – was one of the sixteen figures of geomancy: an overturned glass, meaning good in all that is evil, and evil in all that is good. A name for one who broke with convention, who would find himself driven by passion, violence, and vice.

" _It's just a name, Garrick,"_ Amissio had replied tersely. _"Don't read into it more than there is to see."_

" _Beech and Unicorn hair, seven inches,"_ the wandmaker had said as his eyes took note of the other man. _"One of my father's creations, as I recall. One of the smallest."_

" _Oh, you know it's not the size of the wand that matters, Garrick,"_ Rubeus' father had quipped. " _It's how you use it."_

Garrick Ollivander had looked between the small wizard who had once been his classmate at Hogwarts and his nearly eight foot son. Even if he had not been a Ravenclaw during his school years, it would have been a simple thing to deduce the boy's parentage. And for Amissio Hagrid – a small man – to have charmed a giantess, well…

"… _I suppose you of all people would probably be an authority on the matter,"_ the wandmaker had conceded dryly.

And if the wandmaker was surprised by the coupling, it was only in the particulars, as beech wands only performed well for those who not only rich in understanding and experience, but open minded and tolerant of unusual ideas.

" _You've a good wand, Rubeus Hagrid,"_ Garrick Ollivander had said, turning his attention back to the boy. _"English Oak and Dragon Heartstring, 16 inches. A wand which needs a strong and courageous partner, with an affinity for the magic of beasts and plants. Perhaps you will become the next Newt Scamander, boy."_

That had been a week ago, and young Rubeus had smiled then, at the thought someone besides his father believed he would make something of himself.

But now, as he stood at Platform 9¾, the stares were once more getting to him.

" _Put me down, son,"_ Amissio bid, with Rubeus reaching up and lifting the man by the back of his coat before setting him gently on the ground, where he looked up at his son, meeting the young half-giant's eyes. _"What's wrong?"_

" _Dad…I'm scared. What if I'm not good enough?"_ He'd grown up in a forest, after all, without a chance to practice magic of any sort or really make friends with anyone. _"Yeh said not ta be ashamed, but…"_

" _Everyone starts from the beginning at Hogwarts, Rubeus, whether you're a Magbob or from one of the old families. Just be yerself, son. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts,"_ the man said to his son. _"I did, after all, and I was always the runt. Not like you."_

" _Only one who ever thought I was small was mum,"_ Rubeus rumbled, shaking his head. _"Back when mum was with us."_

"… _yeah,"_ Amissio replied after a moment, turning away so his son wouldn't see the pain blossoming on his face – and in his chest – at the mention of the woman he'd loved – the giantess who'd left him behind forever _. "Whatever you do, Rubeus, you're my son, and I'm proud of you. Besides, I know you'll be a thumpin' good wizard, once you've been trained up."_

" _With you as my dad, what could I be?"_ the boy asked as he looked down at his father – the man who had raised him, who had given up so much for him, who had been so very patient with him. Rubeus knew he hadn't been the easiest person to take care of, but his father had never complained at all.

" _Just remember what Ollivander said,"_ Amissio said as he looked over towards the Hogwarts Express. _"And have courage."_

" _I will…dad."_

" _Give me a hug, Rubeus, and then off to the train with yeh."_

Like so many other children before their first day of school, Rubeus Hagrid hugged his father tearfully goodbye on Platform 9¾, before heading off, his head held high as he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Before the half-giant was torn from dreams from the past by a frantic knocking at his chamber door.

* * *

Rubeus Hagrid lurched upright in bed at the sound from outside, his eyes wet as the last traces of the dream vanished from his eyes. He hadn't known when he'd boarded the train all those years ago that it would be the last time he saw his father.

True, he'd swapped letters with his man, writing home in excitement about life at Hogwarts. There had been so much he'd wanted to share with the one who raised him: getting sorted into Gryffindor, the house of the courageous (which his father had found fitting, though Amissio himself had been a Hufflepuff), trying – and failing – to fly on a broom (as no ordinary broomstick would hold his weight), and of course, learning about the wonders of magic.

In his youth, Rubeus had been enchanted by the wonders of the magical world, with his favorite classes being Herbology under Professor Beery, and Care of Magical Creatures under Professor Kettleburn, though Transfiguration under Professor Dumbledore had been interesting as well.

And his letters had shown that.

But slowly, as the workload built up, he'd had no time to write, and the letters from home stopped coming. And when he'd come home for the winter, riding the _Hogwarts Express_ alone, with some chocolate he'd bought from a third year who'd gone to Hogsmeade for his father, he'd been met at King's Cross by a representative from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"Rubeus Hagrid?"

"Aye…who's askin'?"

The Healer had told him that his father been hospitalized with Cerebrumous Spattergroit and was currently in critical condition.

"No…there's a mistake,"young Hagrid had said. "Ter's got ta be mistake. My dad can't be…"

"I'm afraid there's no mistake, Mister Hagrid. I'm sorry, but you have to return to Hogwarts for the holidays," the Healer had told him, breaking the news as kindly as he could.

"I can't go home?" the boy had asked. "Or even see my father?"

But the Healer had shaken his head.

"I wish I could say yes," the man had replied, not sympathetically. "But your house in the Forest of Dean is currently being decontaminated and your father is in no condition to receive visitors. He's highly contagious right now."

"I…" The boy had gotten on his knees before the healer, startling the man, who had never seen any proper wizard react like this. Then again, he had never encountered someone quite like Rubeus Hagrid…and if his information was right, the eight-foot tall boy before him was only a first year at Hogwarts. "Please. Is there any way at all I can see him?"

"Mister Hagrid, I…"

"Please, sir," the half-giant had begged, his dark eyes filled with anguish as he held onto the man's legs. "I beg you. Dad's never gotten sick like this before. He's…he's all I have."

"…I…alright Mister Hagrid, you win," the Healer had relented at last. He had a family too, after all, and if one of them were deathly ill… "I'll take you to see St. Mungo's and show him to you then. But when I say it's time to go, its time. We can't risk you getting infected as well. The last outbreak we had…"

"Thank you, sir. Thank you. You won't regret this," Rubeus had blubbered, hugging the Healer so slightly he almost broke the man's ribs.

"Ow…."

"Sorry," the boy had said hoarsely. "Don't know me own strength."

True to his word, the Healer – a certain Helbert Spleen – had brought the boy to the Magical Bugs and Diseases wing of St. Mungo's to see his father – but only through the window of an isolation room, since the man _was_ a very serious issue.

"Dad…!" Rubeus had uttered in shock, at the sight of Amissio Hagrid laying on a bed in the pure white room, wearing only a white hospital gown. The man's body was thin…too thin…with no liveness in him whatsoever, with angry purple pustules and blotches covering almost every inch of exposed him. "What…what happened to him?"

"Cerebrumous Spattergroit," Mister Spleen had said, shaking his head solemnly. "A particularly virulent strain of it, too."

"Splatter…groit?" the boy had repeated, looking at his father's body.

"It's a wizarding disease caused by an infectious fungus," the Healer had explained. "The pustules – the purple splotches you can see – are just one of the symptoms. Right now, your father can't talk at all, since his throat is almost completely swollen, can barely move, and…"

"…and…?"

"…he doesn't know who he is right now," the Healer had said with some reluctance. "Or who anyone is. If he'd been brought in sooner, maybe things would be different, but…" Mister Spleen had just shrugged. "Things are what they are, I'm afraid."

In addition to being rather like the Muggle disease smallpox, Cerebrumous Spattergroit had the rather severe effect of causing lesions in the brain as it progressed, leading to severe confusion and memory loss, and in some cases, the eventual breakdown of muscle movement and coordination altogether.

"Will he…will he be ok?" Hagrid had asked, turning away from the painful – too painful scene of his father laying there, helpless.

"We're doing everything we can, son," had been the Healer's reply. "I can't make any guarantees. I can't. I…we're doing everything we can."

He'd been taken back to Hogwarts after that, and in the solitude of his dormitory, Rubeus Hagrid had broken down in tears. In his letters he'd talked on and on about Hogwarts, about how nice life was at the castle. He'd never really thought to ask how his dad was getting on alone. What he was getting up to. Even though his father was so much smaller than him, Rubeus had always seen him as an example of what a man should be – someone who was strong and brave and loving, someone who had chosen to raise his son alone rather than force him to endure taunts and jeers.

Who had taught Rubeus Hagrid to believe in himself – to believe that he was a person with a good heart, and that while many might not understand or accept him, they weren't worth his while anyway.

In the spring, he'd been over the moon when he learned that his father had been discharged from St. Mungo's, but when he came home, eager to see his dad, to give him a hug for the first time in almost a year…the man didn't know who he was.

"Who are you?" Amissio Hagrid had asked his son, his eyes holding no sign of recognition as he looked over the half-giant who stood at the entrance to their home.

"Dad, it's me…I'm back from Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" his father had repeated, his expression confused as he waved the boy away. "Are you sure you don't have the wrong house? My son isn't old enough to go to Hogwarts."

"Dad. It's me. Rubeus. D…don't you recognize me?"

The half-giant felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest as his father looked at him and saw only a stranger.

"Rubeus? You can't be Rubeus. He's just a little boy," the man said quietly, tilting his head. "I think you must be a little confused. Look, it is getting late. If you want, you're welcome to stay for dinner, and I can help you find your dad tomorrow. There's only so many of us around these woods, after all."

This…was more painful than anything he could have imagined. All of his life, his dad had been the one person he could always count on to acknowledge him, to accept him and love him unconditionally – and now the man didn't even know who he was.

Still, the amnesiac Amissio had treated Rubeus as a friend, given him a room to stay in, shared meals with the boy, and went walking with him each day, trying his best to help Rubeus find his father – never quite realizing that he _was_ the boy's father all along. Yet he never seemed to mind when they failed, giving the boy a home to live in.

Rubeus had counted his blessings, as it had been a chance for him to learn about the man who no longer remembered him – to learn that Amissio Hagrid was a very good man – one who saw the very best in everyone around him, whether wizard, beast, or something else.

Around the end of the summer though, Amissio had fallen sick again with what was thought to be another bout of Spattergroit, and had been admitted to St. Mungo's once again. Young Rubeus had been unable to stay with him as the school year was beginning, though the boy found his grades slipping as he worried about his father.

Until after about a month into the year, Amissio Hagrid had passed beyond worry's – or any Healer's – help, having contracted Dragon Pox during his time at St. Mungo's that, coupled with the aggravated symptoms of his original illness, led to the man's untimely demise.

There had been no funeral – the Hagrid family had no money for one, after all – with the body being cremated due to concerns about infection, so Rubeus had never had the chance to say goodbye. The only reason he even knew his father had died and not just disappeared was that he had been called to the Headmaster's office one evening, where a visiting Healer Spleen had had given him the news.

Amissio Hagrid had passed away.

For Rubeus Hagrid, the world might as well have ended in that moment. His father…his dad…had been everything to him. Without his father telling him things would be alright, what did the world really have for him?

He had rejected it, refused to believe it, stormed out of the office screaming that it wasn't possible – that his father couldn't be killed by something so small, so…weak.

But slowly, the news had begun to sink in, with the half-giant alternating between periods of extreme grief…and utter rage, especially when any of his peers dared to make comments about his family's poverty, to make fun of his distraction, or to say that it was better off that a man who had such poor taste was finally dead.

Those unfortunate enough to make such comments had ended up in the hospital wing, with the other students at Hogwarts growing fearful and quickly learning to avoid him, lest the violent second-year set upon them.

For a time, Hagrid had been happy about this.

After all, it was a painful thing to be around so many people, and the half-giant wasn't feeling very sociable, but towards the end of the year he began to feel…lonely, because no one was willing to talk to him.

Everyone was frightened. Intimidated. _Scared._

And so in his third year, he'd scraped together what money he could to acquire an Acromantula egg from a traveler he'd met in Knockturn Alley. He'd named the spider Aragog. Following his father's example, he vowed not to react in fear, but to see the best in anyone – or anything. And because he had no one else to talk to, the spider had become his best friend and companion – almost a brother to him…

…until a Slytherin Prefect named Tom Marvolo Riddle framed him for the death of Myrtle Warren, claiming that Rubeus Hagrid had opened the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed a mighty beast for revenge on all those who had taunted him. After all, a disturbed loner – a half-giant, to boot! – who had a record of getting into fights and savaging his enemies was quite believable as a perpetrator, while the school's model student certainly was not.

The fact that Hagrid had _attacked_ Riddle to prevent the older boy from capturing – or killing – Aragog – had not helped his case, and so Rubeus Hagrid had been expelled from the school, with the Ministry snapping his wand shortly thereafter.

He'd never formally been tried for the killing for a number of reasons. First, because Myrtle Warren had been a Muggleborn, so she didn't really matter to those in power. Second, because people were still afraid of him at the time, and had believed that expelling him from the school and breaking his wand – effectively exiling him from the world of magic – would be enough. And third, because Albus Dumbledore had vouched for him, and the Transfiguration Professor's name had held a certain cachet in Britain, as he was the only person that Grindelwald had ever feared.

The great man had convinced Headmaster Dippet to let him stay at Hogwarts as Gamekeeper Ogg's assistant, and had even allowed him to keep learning magic in secret – despite the official prohibition. Over the years, Dumbledore had been something of a surrogate father to him, which was why he in turn had been so loyal to the man – for Dumbledore had stood up for him when the rest of the world stood against him, believed him instead of that lying snake, and had given him a place to belong when he had nowhere else to go.

But with Albus Dumbledore now dead and Lucius Malfoy holding the reins of power…

' _It's a mad world…'_

Hagrid shook his head sadly as he clambered out of bed and padded over the door, blinking away the tiredness in his eyes as he undid the latch – and came face to face with a visibly distraught Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived looked very pale, almost ill, with his eyes frenzied and unfocused, and he was wearing something very unusual – robes of what looked like grey dragonhide.

"Harry, what's wrong?" the half-giant growled, concerned for his young…friend, he supposed. It had been nearly two years since the last time they'd talked, but Rubeus had always felt something of a kinship for the boy.

The two of them were orphans, after all – people who different, denied their rightful place in the world by vicious bullies who thought they were freaks, who bullies who thought they had the right to do as they pleased to those who couldn't fight back.

Well, he'd showed Vernon Dursley what that was like, hadn't he? Showing him that against magic, there was nothing he could do. And to really rub in the lesson, he hadn't aimed his wand at Vernon, but the man's pig-like son, giving him a tail.

…yes, he'd told Harry that he'd meant to transfigure the boy into a pig, but given that he wasn't supposed to use magic, he'd settled for a tail, since that could just be cut out, as a nice permanent reminder to that family of bullies not to pick on those he loved.

"My friends…" Harry replied, nervous, worried, anxious all at once. "The Twins. They…trouble. In the forest."

"What?!" Hagrid stiffened as the boy's words sunk in. "I warned 'em," the half-giant growled. "I warned 'em over and over again. The Forbidden Forest is forbidden for a reason!"

"I know," the Boy-Who-Lived responded, pain plainly written across his features. "Hagrid, please, we need your help."

Hagrid sighed, but nodded.

"Alright, Harry," the caretaker said gruffly. "But once we get done with this, you and I will need to talk. It's not safe to be around this late. Not ev'n for you and yer friends."

Stopping only to pull on his moleskin overcoat, he left the room, heading towards the nearest set of stairs, with Harry trailing behind him.

"The Forest is a dangerous place, Harry, and you've not been trained to deal with them," the half-giant explained as they walked, frustrated. "And neither've your friends, for that matter. For three years I kept them out the forest, and then now when I can't, they go looking for trouble."

"What kind of dangers, Hagrid?" Harry asked, his voice unusually subdued.

"All kinds, Harry. Wolves, trolls, gytrashes, bloodsuckin' bugbears, an' more," Hagrid listed, shaking his head as they stepped into the Great Hall. "An' centaurs are the worst. Right proud they are, an' unfriendly to any wizard they see. Ruddy stargazers."

They continued in silence for a few moments more, their footsteps carrying them across the Hall at a pace Harry found difficult to keep up, until they came at last to the door.

"…and Aragog?" the boy asked quietly.

"Bah, Aragog's no danger to anyone. Promised me that when I raised—" And then the half-giant froze as Harry's question sunk in, his eyes widening in shock. "Harry…" he said slowly, almost nervously, "how do yeh know about Aragog?"

In response, the Boy-Who-Lived bade Hagrid to open the door, which he did - only to recoil in horror as he saw the unmoving corpse of the monstrous Aragog simply laying there.

"Aragog!" Hagrid uttered, moving to the spider's side, checking for any sign of life, any sign that maybe his first impression had been mistaken. But the more he looked, the more he saw that pained him – deep, bloody gashes in the spider's side, holes ripped through its body. Aragog's legs ripped almost clean off, torn apart by something vicious and powerful. What…what could have done this to his oldest friend? "Harry, what happened?" he breathed, the plight of the Twins forgotten in his shock. "How did Aragog…?"

But his voice trailed off as he saw the cold look on the face of the boy called the Heir of Slytherin, one which reminded him of another boy from just over fifty years ago.

"…no," the half-giant whispered, stepping back as a dark realization filled his mind. "Yeh…don't tell me that yeh…"

"Yes Hagrid," Harry said gravely, his eyes hard and flashing. "I killed him. Him and the rest of his offspring."

"Why…?"

"Hagrid, look at him," the Boy-Who-Lived stated, iron in his voice. "He and his kind are vicious, dangerous killers. It was only a matter of time before they killed someone else. And we did what was necessary."

"Someone…else?" Hagrid asked incredulously. "Bollocks! He…Aragog wasn't no 'arm to anyone. And his sons and daughters never hurt me when I went to feed 'em." Noting an utter lack of surprise on Harry's face, the half-giant's eye widened. "But yeh knew that. Yeh knew I knew Aragog. That I took care of him."

"That you found him a mate?" Harry inquired.

The caretaker's hard expression was all the answer he needed.

"Why…?" Hagrid asked again, stricken with grief…and betrayal. Three years ago, he'd saved Harry from the Dursleys, and this… _this_ was how the Boy-Who-Lived repaid him?

He didn't expect an answer this time – not something that would make sense, anyway.

…he certainly didn't expect what Harry said next.

"…I'm sure Myrtle's parents still ask that every day," the Heir of Slytherin uttered – echoing the sentiment of another powerful, charismatic young wizard. An orphan who had become the greatest terror Britain had ever known.

"That's, no!" Hagrid roared, stepping towards Harry – but stilled as the boy drew his wand, pointing it at the half-giant's heart. "Aragog never – !"

"He'll never hurt anyone again," the Boy-Who-Lived declared. "Two years ago, after Sokaris died, I made a promise to myself that I would save everyone. That I would make sure no innocent would die if I could stop it. Am I supposed to spare Aragog and his ilk after he already killed centaurs? Am I supposed to believe that an _Acromantula_ would restrain itself from seeking prey, _especially a_ fter he already killed someone fifty years ago?"

"THAT'S A DAMNED LIE!" Hagrid thundered, seeing red as he stepped forward—

 _Whump-BOOM!_

—and was blinded by a flashbang _ofuda_ that detonated immediately before his eyes, with him staggering back in pain until he was backed against the Hogwarts castle wall.

"I thought yeh would end up like yer parents," the half-giant said bitterly, grief, betrayal and fury writ across his face as he looked between the corpse of the Acromantula he had once raised – and the boy he had brought out of captivity. The boy who lied. The boy who killed. "But yeh turned out just like _him_."

"Him, Hagrid?" the Heir of Slytherin inquired, his wand still pointed at Hagrid's heart.

"You know who. You-Know-Who," Hagrid grunted, his body tensing. "Yeh must feel proud, slaughterin' the innocent, bein' a right mighty Slytherin, choosin' who lives and who dies."

"Hagrid, please…"

"Don't talk to me, _monster_!" the half-giant shouted. "I don't know yeh. I don't think I ever knew yeh, and I don't want to know yeh, either. Why did you even call me here, to taunt me? To show me what became of my oldest friend, who I raised from an egg? To see how I would react to knowing you're a ruddy murderer?! "

"No," came another voice, this one belonging to Gilderoy Lockhart, as he and a full squad of Aurors appeared from the night, shrugging off their invisibility cloaks, with their wands joining Harry's in pointing at the half-giant. "To get you to confess, as you have done. Stand down, Rubeus Hagrid, unless you wish to die this night."

"You…!" It took everything the half-giant had _not_ to just rush at them – and even then, he didn't know why he stopped. He had nothing holding him back, after all. No future. No friends. No family. _Nothing._ In the end, he settled for a few final words the Boy-Who-Lived – the boy who had obviously begun to walk in You-Know-Who's footsteps. "Yer just like _him,"_ Hagrid repeated venomously, his eyes filled with loathing. "I shouldna brought you here, Harry. I shoulda left yeh with _them_. World would be better off without yeh."

Shortly thereafter, Rubeus Hagrid was placed under arrest and taken away.

* * *

"Matou?" came a subdued voice – almost a whisper, with Shinji rising from his chair and looking up from his bedside vigil towards the door of the Hospital Wing to see a troubled-looking Harry Potter holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands. "Can we talk?"

"What do you need, Harry?" Shinji said tiredly, shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs in his mind. He hadn't slept much these last few days, as he'd been sick with worry. It had been three days since the raid on the spider hollow, and Luna Lovegood had not yet opened her eyes.

And not because of any physical injury, either.

No. This was something else – something which magi and others dealt with far more often than wizard-kind, given the kinds of spells each used.

Prana depletion.

And given that prana was the energy not just of magic, but of life…that was a very dangerous thing indeed.

"Lovegood hasn't woken up yet, huh?" Harry asked, with Matou shaking his head. "I hope she'll be alright."

"You and me both, Harry," Shinji replied, rubbing the bags from his eyes. "What can I do for you? And I can't help but notice you chose to visit while Madam Pomfrey was out."

"Mm. Which reminds me," Harry noted. " _Muffliato_."

Shinji frowned as a low buzzing, just at the threshold of his hearing, sounded – and lingered on and on.

"Privacy spell, I take it?" he inquired.

"It has its uses," Harry admitted. "Snape taught it to me."

"So he did," Shinji noted, wondering what else the Potions Master had taught his friend – but knowing Harry wasn't about to share. After all, they _were_ also rivals for the position of Potions Champion of Hogwarts, if each for their own reasons.

Without another word, the Boy-Who-Lived handed his friend the _Daily Prophet_ , a special edition that was all about Rubeus Hagrid, featuring a basic biography of the half-giant, as well as coverage on the Chamber of Secrets incident of fifty years ago – and how he'd avoided prosecution because of Albus Dumbledore – a man whose corruption was becoming more and more clear as the years went on, the dragon that Hagrid had attempted to raise two years ago – and which had been sent back to a reserve since, as well as the Acromantula colony the half-giant had established…and which the Stone Cutters had destroyed.

The _Prophet_ hailed them as heroes who had, against all odds, exposed the half-giant's crimes and protected the students of Hogwarts – all of whom had been at risk from the actions of the man who had once been Hogwarts' gamekeeper.

"Lucius Malfoy asked me if I had any preference for what was to be done with…Hagrid," the Boy-Who-Lived said quietly, when Shinji had finished. "Right now, I…I don't know. I never thought Hagrid would hurt someone, but Aragog? He…he and his spawn…nearly killed us, Matou. If it wasn't for…" Harry trailed off. "I don't know what to believe right now, and I don't really know if there is something I want. Part of me thinks that we should give Hagrid another chance, that he means well. Part of me wants to throw him in Azkaban, where he can't hurt anyone ever again. And part of me…"

Shinji sighed and folded the newspaper.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Right now, I think you're emotionally compromised," the boy from the east said calmly. "You're confused, you're tired, you don't know what to think. You want to know my advice, Harry?"

"What is it?"

"Stay out of this," Shinji cautioned, shaking his head.

"But…"

"I know you want what's best for Hagrid, but you're not even sure what's best for him right now. And even if you wanted him to be given a second chance…" Shinji held up the _Prophet._ "They wouldn't let you. Not with everything that's happened. Just let the system run its course. He'll get a trial like anyone else would, and I'm sure in the end, justice will be served."

"I…you're probably right, Matou," Harry conceded, closing his eyes. "Sorry for bothering you with this. I know you've had a lot to deal with yourself, since Lovegood…"

There was a long moment of silence as the Boy-Who-Lived didn't know what to say.

"…she looked after me when I collapsed after fighting a demon bear – one I almost ended up dying to because of my own stupidity," the Matou scion admitted. "That she's here, because I asked her to…"

"—if you hadn't, Matou, we'd all be dead. Or well, the Twins would be. So would Robert. And me. I guess you two would have lived."

"…I guess. But still…"

"This is what Lockhart means by the difficult choices a leader has to make, huh? The needs of the many and needs of the few?" Harry mused as he looked over to the sleeping girl, with her white fox laying on her pillow.

"She told me…" Shinji paused, shaking his head. "She said her magical energy was adequate. But with what happened, she must have been running low."

"If she'd been honest, what would you have done?" Harry asked quietly.

Shinji just looked away.

"…that's what I thought," the Boy-Who-Lived murmured. "And I guess she knew that too."

"…I guess."

The air between them was silent for almost a minute before Harry spoke again.

"You love her, don't you?"

Shinji looked down at Luna's sleeping form, and reached out to stroke her cheek.

"I do, actually," he admitted, a vulnerable expression flitting across his face for a moment before it vanished. "I guess that's why I'm so worried right now."

"…as much as you loved Sokaris?" Harry questioned, as the boy from the east winced. "Actually, don't answer that. That was…sorry."

"I'm looking forward to facing you for the final potions challenge," Shinji said after a while, changing the topic. "Especially since you've been trained by Snape himself."

"…that doesn't worry you, Matou?" Harry inquired, noticing the change, but letting his friend get away with it. It was his fault for bringing up a sore topic, after all.

"I was thinking I could use a good challenge," the Matou scion rejoined, smirking for the first time. "If you want to become champion, you'll have to work for it, Snape's protégé or no."

Harry sighed.

It was clear to him that Shinji had no intention of backing down, and that the boy from the east had his own reasons for competing. That they probably began – and ended – with Sokaris was not really something he could judge, given that Harry knew how devastated he'd be if he were to lose Daphne.

"I wouldn't expect anything else from my best friend," the Boy-Who-Lived replied softly. Without another word, he took back his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and dismissed the _Muffliato_ spell, before leaving his fellow Stone Cutters in peace.

In the silence that followed, Shinji returned to his chair by Luna's side, reaching out to hold her hand, and twine his fingers with hers. He knew that in the last few days, Zelkova had been busy converting the magical energy of Hogwarts into a trickle of prana for Luna and her _kitsune_. Enough, at least, to sustain them her and allow their bodies to heal from their exertions.

And yet the outcome was far from certain.

While those descended from the fey – or youkai – tended to have greater resilience than normal humans, it was because of the extra prana their bodies could store – and use. The same thing made magi – especially those with crests – a tad more resilient to death, as long as they weren't killed outright.

The sword's other edge of course, was that their bodies needed more prana – and could burn it far faster than normal humans, and if they fully ran out…

And so Matou Shinji kept a quiet vigil by Luna Lovegood's bedside, hoping she'd wake up.

If she didn't…if she died because of what he'd asked of her, he'd…he'd…

…and then he felt something.

A twitch – no, fingers tightening on his, as quietly, Luna Lovegood opened her lovely silver eyes.

"I…" she began, finding her voice scratchy. "I had the oddest dream."

Shinji quickly stood, helping her sit and handing her a cup of water, which she drank gratefully, in small sips.

"What did you see?" he asked curiously, thinking that the sight of her awake and whole was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You told me…," she whispered, leaning toward him, her silver eyes looking into his grey. "In the dream. You told me…you loved me."

His heart seemed to stop for a moment at the emotion in her words, as he leaned forward and kissed her with a passion that surprised even him.

"It was right," he said, once they pulled apart – and then he knew he'd been wrong – that the expression of wonder and joy on her face – the way her eyes lit up, the way she smiled – was the most beautiful thing in the world. "I do."


	43. Brother Against Brother

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 43.** _Brother Against Brother_

As rain fell in torrents, with the darkness of the night broken up now and then by jagged forks of lightning racing across the sky, Matou Shinji crept slowly through the muddy forest grounds, his golden eyes scanning his environs for any trace of his quarry. No easy task, given that the one he was hunted was trained in evasion – and that the enemy's wyvernhide garments concealed the Boy-Who-Lived's prana signature.

' _How…_ inconvenient _, that the things I procured would be turned against me,'_ the Matou scion thought dryly. _'Are you having any more luck, Zelkova?'_

The _kodama's_ answer was not entirely reassuring.

' _There are several patterns of movement consistent with footsteps some distance from here, Master,'_ came over his mental link. _'But I cannot be sure if it is your enemy or another animal, as this forest is home to wolves and other animals – though few would be out in a storm. As for ingredient caches, I do not sense any in the immediate area.'_

Matou Shinji frowned. He had been afraid this might be the case, given that before he and Harry had been dropped off in a remote section of the Forbidden Forest –a section he hadn't previously explored and hadn't had a chance to have Zelkova scout out – Professor Snape had mentioned that this would be the most grueling Challenge yet.

There would be no base camps where one could brew in relative safety, or leave supplies or equipment. No reliable shelter one could use to brew. No allies to depend on to watch his back or find ingredients for him. No direction for where to go or when to brew.

And of course, during the 12 hour period – dusk till dawn – in which the challenge went on, there were effectively no rules as to what they could do to one another.

Incapacitation. Sabotage. And what have you – everything was permitted.

Their only instructions had been to collect potions ingredients and create the best potions they could, as that was all they would be judged on. Come dawn, they would be Portkeyed out of the Forest, and whoever presented him with the most advanced, highest quality potion, would be chosen as Hogwarts Potions Champion.

As for the miserable weather, Severus Snape had just called it fortuitous, stating with a sneer that if either Matou or Potter felt they could not endure a little rain, they might as well quit now, given that far worse would await them at the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship.

After that, they'd been dropped into the Forest, with neither having any idea where the other was, what ingredients were available, or anything to tell them how much time had passed, all of which added to the pressure of the situation.

Matou Shinji supposed that this final test was objectively fair and appropriate, given that a Champion would have to be prepared for the unexpected, but it didn't keep him from cursing under his breath at how unfavorable the situation was for him.

In spite of his earlier bravado, Shinji knew he could not hope to outbrew Harry, not when the other boy had the advantage of learning recipes and techniques not only from Snape but the _Book of Potions_ itself – a tome which was a veritable treasure trove of lore, given that it contained the spirit of master potioneer Zygmunt Budge, the inventor of the potion called "liquid luck."

However much he had developed as a Potioneer, with the benefit of lessons from Hermione and the Twins, matching Harry's talents was no doubt still beyond him, so it would be foolish to try.

' _Which doesn't leave me with many options to try and win, does it?'_ he mused, moving as silently as he could.

Two options, to be precise.

The first of these – taking all the ingredients he came across and leaving nothing behind, in the hope of denying Harry the ingredients the other boy needed – Shinji had dismissed almost immediately.

He didn't know what ingredients the Boy-Who-Lived needed, given that he couldn't even be sure what potion the other boy wanted to brew or what recipes Harry was working from. And even if he _did_ , that didn't mean Shinji would be able to reach them before Harry could, especially with Zelkova not sensing any caches in the immediate vicinity.

Which left only one viable option: Forcing Harry into a confrontation, as there, Matou Shinji knew he held an edge. After all, incapacitation had not been disallowed and if he managed to disable his rival, then his potion would be the best _by default._

' _Which sounded great when I settled on it, but in this weather, and with the properties of our wyvernhide equipment…'_

…it was harder than it seemed.

Finding someone in this downpour – especially someone who didn't want to be found, would be a chore in and of itself, even with his cunning, his mastery of earth, and the tricks the Twins had taught him.

And after finding Harry, he still needed to face and _defeat_ the other boy, all of which was more difficult when it sounded when the ground below him was a muddy mire, there were other hazards to be aware of, and he needed ingredients himself.

Still, as the rain poured down, something dark and hungry stirred within him, a power he'd put aside for far too long whispering of what it could do with all this _water_ all around him.

As he hunted, Matou Shinji's lips curved into a predatory _smile._

* * *

In the months since the extermination of the Acromantula colony and the arrest of Rubeus Hagrid, life had gone on at Hogwarts, as the spring term went along, with professors piling more and more work on their students in an attempt to prepare them for their end of term exams – and for some, like the Weasley Twins and Robert Hillard, their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, which were far worse, by comparison.

In its wake, Stone Cutters' reputation had been elevated to near mythic standards in the eyes of the student population at Hogwarts, given the near impossibility of eliminating an entire colony of Acromantulae with so very few people. Reception of their actions among the faculty was much more of a mixed bag, with Headmaster Flitwick inclined to accept _fait accompli_ and warn them not to do anything so dangerous on school grounds again, while Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape had been most displeased that they had not done the reasonable thing and informed both the staff and the authorities.

Lockhart, had of course, pointed out _why_ they had not done so, given concerns about the staff dismissing the possibility of such a colony existing – or asking Rubeus Hagrid about them, who would then have proceeded to lie and relocate the dangerous beasts, though the Deputy Headmistress had been less than pleased by his explanation.

"Students should not be allowed to take the law into their own hands, Gilderoy, much less undermine our authority in this way," she had said during an emergency meeting in the Headmaster's office that had involved herself, the Headmaster, the History Professor, and Severus Snape. "Especially not a group led by the Boy-Who-Lived and the Head Boy. What kind of example does that set for the others?"

"The right one, I would think,"Lockhart had replied, regarding the Deputy Headmistress with cold eyes. "It is their duty as citizens to do what is right, Minerva, not merely what is lawful."

"It is not their place to decide…"Professor McGonagall had begun, only for Lockhart to cut the Deputy Headmistress off with a laugh.

"…not their place, Minerva?"the Assassin had inquired. "Is that what you said to Albus when he stepped outside the law to establish the Order of the Phoenix? Don't be a hypocrite."

"That's…" Minerva McGonagall had stiffened, her lips curving into a frown as she stared at the younger man. _"_ That's a different matter entirely, Gilderoy. These are students we are talking about."

"Really, Minerva?"Lockhart had asked sardonically. "You want to act against a group who is known for faced both a troll and a dark wizard in their first year, knowing what it might cost them – because they didn't want to see their peers hurt? Students who the rest of the school accepts as extraordinary, not just for what they've done at Hogwarts, but for the fact that one of them is Harry Potter, who _defeated Lord Voldemort himself_. _"_

His last sentence had been almost a _hiss,_ with his fellow teachers flinching at the way he uttered the Dark Lord's name without so much as a trace of unease.

"What would you suggest, Gilderoy?" Professor Flitwick had asked the History Professor. "You clearly have something in mind, and it wouldn't do to encourage other students to act unwisely, especially those who don't have the Stone Cutters' extraordinary capabilities."

"I do, in fact,"the Assassin had noted, with the others regarding him curiously. "Headmaster, you should announce that this entire affair was conducted with your full knowledge and approval, and that you called on the Stone Cutters because you felt they could be trusted to act with competence and discretion – as they have shown here."

"That's absurd. You want the Headmaster to lie—"

"I wasn't finished, Minerva,"the man had said icily, earning himself a glare from the Deputy Headmistress, who had never really liked him, not even in his student days, and couldn't fathom why Albus Dumbledore had hired him. "As such, given that this is a Hogwarts-sanctioned operation, and happened on school grounds, the school would entitled to some of the proceeds, would it not? Especially given that Hagrid likely used school supplies and funds to raise the Acromantula colony."

"…you do raise an interesting point,"Professor Snape had interjected. "As distasteful as I find it personally, by placing our seal of approval on these…glory hounds, return for a price, we would likely be able to discourage other would-be adventurers from acting independently."

"I'm curious, Gilderoy." Flitwick had raised his eyebrows. "You're the adventurer among us. Since we're discussing a division of the proceeds, about how much could the spider remains fetch on the open market?"

"The venom alone would be 100 Galleons a pint,"Snape had drawled, his eyes going unfocused as he contemplated the numbers. "And if there truly were hundreds…"

…then that was a _lot_ of money.

"… _Merlin_ ," Flitwick had squeaked. "And that's _just_ the venom?"

"To be fair, the venom is the part that needs the least processing, extraction aside," Lockhart had explained. "There should be approximately a million Galleons worth of that, once we get around to harvesting it. As for the rest, things such as spider blood, fangs, carapaces and silk are less in demand in Britain, though there's a considerable bit more of it. Sold to the right parties, that is possibly another million or two, perhaps more, though I don't suggest selling the fangs."

"Oh?" Flitwick had been curious as to what Lockhart intended. "Explain, if you would."

"Certainly, Headmaster," Lockhart had said, nodding deferentially to the part-goblin. "As all of us know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament is occurring next year for the first time in centuries, and is to be hosted at Durmstrang. And at such an event, where national honor is at stake, would it not be to our favor to present our hosts – and the fair witches and wizards of Beauxbatons – with gifts? Say…ceremonial daggers made from Acromantula fangs commemorating the Tournament's revival…and demoralizing our opposition when they learn what our champion candidates are capable of?"

Another silence fell over the room, though this time, it was a far more thoughtful one.

"…that is an interesting point you raise, Gilderoy," Flitwick had allowed. "And not one without merit, either."

"My thought is this – since the Stone Cutters did risk life and limb to complete this operation, it is only right for them to receive a goodly portion of the returns. Shall we say, about sixty percent of the proceeds from the venom, and the rights to do with the silk and carapaces as they wish? The rest will go to us, as I imagine you can find parties interested in the blood, Severus? If not, I certainly can."

"I can, yes," Snape had said gruffly.

And with that, the senior members of the faculty had agreed, with Lockhart going off to share the news of how the goods would be split with the school, and the other accommodations they would be given, such as their Orders of Merlin being bumped to First Class, and other things of the sort.

"Decide among yourselves who gets what," the man had told them. "This is the best deal I can get you, given that with what truly happened, the school would have been within its rights to claim title to all of what you collected."

"…and what exactly do you get out of this, Professor?" a suspicious Robert Hillard had inquired.

Lockhart had just shrugged.

"Nothing, Mister Hillard, aside from making sure you and yours get what you so richly deserve," the History Professor had replied. "And preventing my colleagues from doing anything too rash in their zeal for justice. Everyone has a price, after all."

"…I see."

"No, you don't," the Assassin had noted, "but you will, in time."

In the end, Shinji had allowed the other Stone Cutters to claim the proceeds from the venom, while he – and Luna – had settled for rights to the carapaces and silk…so long as he could use the Hogwarts owls to ship his goods to his Master at _Mahoutokoro_ , given that shipping costs for such a volume of goods would otherwise be prohibitively expensive.

Lockhart had promised to ask the Headmaster, who had given permission, as save for very rare occasions, most of Hogwarts' owls went unused, so as long as Shinji left enough to cover the usual demand, it would be fine.

Most of the others saw it as an act of generosity, as it left them with a little over half a million British pounds each, but for him it was simply pragmatic, as his Master needed silk and carapace for her projects, and given the silk industry in the East, he was reasonably sure _Mahoutokoro_ was better equipped to deal with the processing required to make the silk usable.

In other news, to no one's surprise, the half-giant had been sentenced to a life sentence in Azkaban for his numerous crimes, which included, but were not limited to, trafficking in Class A Non-Tradeable Materials, several counts of aggravated assault on an officer of the law, criminal negligence, violation of the Ban on Experimental Breeding, Violating a Ministry Order (by continuing to use magic after being expelled from Hogwarts), and the murder of Myrtle Warren.

The Capture the Flag season had come to an end, with Anthony Goldstein leading Team Snorkack to victory over the league and claiming both the Honeydukes Cup and the limited edition Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog Card that came with it.

And Molly Weasley had been hired as the castle's caretaker and had thrown herself into her new job with a passion born of frustration – much to the despair of many a troublemaker. After all, while it had been bad enough facing detention from a nasty man like Argus Filch, or a good-hearted if scary sort like Rubeus Hagrid (who tended to have students out in the Forest), it was worse to be lectured by a matronly woman who was quite adept at the art of guilt-tripping and possessed a keen sense for rooting out mischief and mayhem (no doubt a consequence of raising so many children, including Fred and George). Her sons, of course, were never caught out after curfew, but of course, they had certain…advantages such as the Marauder's Map, letting them see her coming from corridors away, invisibility potions, so they could not be seen, and of course, house elves that would apparate them around the castle at need, facilitating easy getaways.

* * *

Lightning flashed down from above, followed closely on its heels by rolling thunder, as Harry Potter shivered under his Cloak of Invisibility. Not because he was cold, mind you, but because he was nervous. The last few…hours had been some of the worst in his life as he made his way through the Forbidden Forest, looking for potion ingredients, while simultaneously keeping a wary eye out for any sign of Matou Shinji.

He knew that his friend – and rival – desired the position of Champion as much as he did, which worried him, as he'd seen what Shinji was capable of doing to anything that stood in his way. And given that only one of them would emerge from this challenge with what he wanted…well, the Boy-Who-Lived was less than entirely confident about his chances of victory.

Yes, between the two of them, he was indisputably the better brewer, given that he _was_ Snape's protégé, but all the brewing knowledge in the world wouldn't help him in a fight. And while some of the spells the Professor had taught him _might…_ well, Shinji was wearing dragonhide robes as well, meaning that there was very little that would could even faze him.

' _Little except_ ofuda _, and Matou knows how to use that far better than I do.'_

In a way, it was fortunate that it was raining so heavily, as the torrential downpour washed away his footsteps, but on the other hand, dealing with the limited visibility it brought was something of a nightmare – and he didn't dare to use even _Lumos_ to help light his way, as that would just heighten the odds of him being discovered and neutralized.

For while his Cloak made him invisible and his ensemble of dragonhide gear protected him from most wand spells, neither would protect him if Shinji began lobbing powerful explosive _ofuda_ his way.

…or raised spikes of earth to surround him, caused the ground to open up under him, or any other unpleasantness. Worse, if it so happened that Shinji discovered him while the other boy was in fusion form, there would be _nothing_ Harry could do to stop him.

' _Not that he can maintain fusion for long…'_

From what Harry had managed to piece together during the spider raid, Matou had distinct limits on how long he could stay in his enhanced form, as he would have otherwise started the battle with his full powers.

Which _probably_ meant that for the first few hours, Shinji forego the use of his trump card, saving it for later.

 _Probably_.

Unfortunately, probably wasn't good enough, not when so much was depending on it, and there were too many unknowns to be certain what the best course of action was.

Certainly, he could stay on the move until the very last moment, and only _then_ stop to brew, but would Matou be expecting that? He could brew something _now_ and spend the rest of the time on the move, but if the boy from the east was on the prowl, that could be extraordinarily dangerous.

Whenever he chose to stop and focus on crafting a potion, he'd be exposing himself to danger, since while he could conceal himself from sight, he couldn't exactly hide a bubbling cauldron or an open flame – if he could even get a fire going in the pouring rain.

 _Incendio_ , the Fire-Making Charm,was less than entirely reliable during a tempest, after all, and while he supposed he could conjure up handheld flames, that was something of a last resort, as it meant he'd be preparing his ingredients much more slowly than usual.

And given that he'd _already_ need to be careful with that, since maintaining the proper ratio of water and ingredients were important, and the last thing he needed was for rainwater to overfill the cauldron with disastrous results.

' _I think…I preferred when the forest was on fire.'_

At least that time, there had been established base camps to get to, with cauldrons and supplies already present. This time, he and Matou had to carry their supplies – and any ingredients they collected – with them, without anywhere to drop them off.

It was perhaps an irony that the collapsible cauldron and ingredient prep set Matou had given him in first year was turning out to be a godsend, as it was lightweight and useful for storing other things.

' _What to do…'_

The Draught of Living Death was right out, given that it would require _at least_ an hour to brew a mostly finished potion, even with all of Professor Snape's shortcuts, and he had no idea where he'd get a Sloth brain. A Love Potion Antidote would be the simplest thing he could make, as it required only Wiggentree twigs, Castor oil and extract of Gurdyroot, but it wouldn't be very impressive.

'… _wait, is that a Wiggentree?'_

His eyes widened. That was good fortune indeed, given that he would be protected from Dark Creatures so long as he was touching the tree.

Slowly, he approached it, drawing his knife as he hoped to slice off a few twigs – only for something to jump at him – a hand-sized, flat-faced stickman of barks and twigs, with sharpened fingers aiming for his eyes—

' _Bowtruckle_.'

—only to be met by a beam of red light as it thudded lifelessly to the muddy ground below.

' _I'll harvest and keep going. If Matou was anywhere nearby, this could get bad.'_

* * *

' _Master…prana signature detected,'_ the voice of Zelkova reported dutifully over his mental link with Shinji. _'800 meters due west of this position.'_

With his face half hidden by the cowl of his robe, Matou Shinji found his lips curving up into a smile. Finally, after what had seemed like hours, he had a solid lead where his opponent might be. Oh, his _kodama_ had identified several entities moving through the forest earlier, but without something to confirm that one of those was _Harry_ , all Shinji had been able to do was move in the general direction movement had been sensed.

Now though…

' _Very good, Zelkova. Can you narrow down his location, or pinpoint where he might be going from there?'_

' _Perhaps. We need to get closer, Master.'_

Shinji just grunted and channeled prana into his boots to help him close the distance between him and his quarry, hoping the rain would drown out the sound of him advancing.

* * *

Believing that someone might have seen the flash of red light, Harry had moved on from the Wiggentree after his encounter with the Bowtruckle. It was unfortunate, but he couldn't afford to be wrong. If he ran into Matou and couldn't neutralize him, that would bode ill for his chances of success.

He had to keep moving until he found somewhere that he could use for shelter, where his flame and cauldron could be hidden from sight while he prepared his ingredients.

A brilliant stroke of lightning lit up world around him with a brilliant white light as it struck a tree somewhere in the forest. Seeing it, something stirred in Harry's mind – something he hadn't considered before.

' _A hollowed out tree…that would be ideal, if I could find one.'_

* * *

' _Master – look, a stunned Bowtruckle by this Wiggentree.'_

Shinji frowned as he knelt down, touching the earth and letting a few of his _ofuda_ flutter down to it. He let his prana seep into the ground, feeling for any disturbances or anomalies in the flow, any subtle variations in the distribution of earth, that—aha!

Someone about his size, had passed here not long ago, heading northwest, though without any betraying prana signature.

' _Well,_ that _would probably be Harry…Zelkova, can you track him from here?'_

' _I believe so, Master, but I am unsure if you can catch up to him unless he stops.'_

Sooner or later though, Harry would have to, and when he did…

'C _heckmate.'_

* * *

' _Something's coming.'_

Harry didn't know _how_ he knew this to be so, just that he felt a premonition of doom, as if something was swooping towards him and narrowly missing. He couldn't see anyone out in the gloom, but that didn't really mean much, given that visibility was terrible.

' _And if I'm right, this could be bad…I have to break contact.'_

Thinking quickly, he released a number explosive _ofuda,_ ordering them to shoot backwards towards the direction he felt something at him from as he broke into a run, veering away from his original direction in the hope that he could put some distance between him and whoever was chasing him, as explosions rang out in the distance.

* * *

Shinji had just cast a non-verbal _Homenum Revelio,_ pinpointing Harry's position, when a swarm of explosive _ofuda_ came at him.

 _Whump-BOOM! Whump-BOOM! Whump-BOOM!_

The boy from the east brought his arms up to guard his face as he found himself pushed back by the force of the explosions, muffled as they were by the roar of thunder.

By the time the explosions stopped, the marker denoting Harry's position had disappeared.

'… _he broke contact. And now he knows I'm after him…'_

The Matou scion frowned.

' _Zelkova, can you tell me which way he went? I don't think I'll be able to run him to ground unless I use fusion, and I'd rather save that if possible.'_

' _Ah, a trap then, Master?'_

' _Yes,'_ Shinji replied, handing his familiar a few explosive ofuda. 'I _f you can find him for me, detonate a few of these ahead of him. I want him confused and running. I'm heading to the fallback position.'_

' _Scenario Abel is in effect then, Master?'_ Zelkova questioned, with a hint of exasperation audible through the link.

' _Indeed. Scenario Abel.'_

* * *

Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest as he ran and ran and _ran_ , his mind trying to process how on earth Matou had tracked him through the forest. He knew it was probably a coincidence. The other probably just happened to be close enough to see his crimson spellbeam – or hear it – when he'd been forced to defend himself, but…something about that explanation didn't ring true.

He had to put more distance between himself and his friend, or the other would find him again, somehow.

And then twin explosions of light and fury erupted before him, knocking him to the ground and his blood froze in his veins.

' _What?'_

Had Matou gotten ahead of him? How? How was that possible?

Scrabbling to his feet, the Boy-Who-Lived released a sphere of flash-bangs all around him to cover his escape and changed course once again as a powerful flash of brilliant light erupted behind him.

* * *

Matou Shinji smirked as he retreated back to the pre-arranged position, knowing his familiar would keep Harry on the run for a time – long enough so that he could set up the essentials of his plan. It wasn't at all guaranteed, but if there was one thing that he had learned from Lockhart, it was that if someone believed that they were trapped, that they had no other options available but the ones you placed before them, then that person was already halfway defeated.

"The most fundamental part of combat is movement," the Assassin had said in one of their lessons. "How you move – how your enemy moves, both physically and in terms of thought. Control those, and the battle is won."

"And how would one go about doing that?" a curious Matou Shinji had asked, as he rubbed a soothing salve on some of his bruises. "Especially if your opponent outclasses you in an area."

"Much like Mister Potter is better than you at Potions?" the History Professor had quipped, with Shinji wincing as the man saw through him so easily. "You know the answer as well as I. Don't face him in a battle of potioneers. Press the advantages _you_ have to make your opponent desperate, and then use his desperation against him."

"Oh?"

"People often defeat themselves far more readily than we can defeat them," the man had told him. "You remember the axiom I taught you in History class?"

"Nothing is true, sir?"

"Indeed," Lockhart had affirmed with a serious look on his face. "Everything is permitted."

Matou Shinji had taken those lessons to heart, and as he reached the spot he and Zelkova had picked out earlier, under the cover of a tree, where he began laying out a base camp of sorts, putting down a line of earth-elemental _ofuda_ as mines to protect him from his enemies as he quickly prepared the ingredients he needed.

A length of fruit juice tinged ice, formed readily enough from the rain and a few crushed elderberries.

Wildflowers, of which plenty had been in abundance.

And of course, a red spider he'd found in a cache.

Then, on the muddy ground, he'd wordlessly conjured up a bright blue flame – flames that were waterproof, needed no fuel, and radiated heat only to objects held directly above it – and expanded his cauldron over it as he mixed the ingredients together.

These bluebell flames, as he'd learned from the twins, were something they'd used in pranks before – most notably on _him_ in his first year – and he was rather glad to know it in this situation, given how rain could be rather troublesome otherwise.

And as the cauldron began to bubble, Matou Shinji stepped away, slipping into the night and leaving the area apparently undefended.

* * *

Harry found himself slowing as his legs burned from exertion. He'd changed directions any number of times, only to find _ofuda_ waiting for him, forcing him to spend more and more of his own talismans, and finally, _finally_ , it seemed like Matou had lost him, given that the explosions seemed to be getting further and further away.

' _Good. Whatever he was doing earlier to find me, it must have worn off. Maybe he lost his fusion form?'_

At least, Harry hoped so. If not, then the chase would begin again, and he hadn't begun to brew anything quite yet.

He leaned against a tree, taking a moment to get his breathing under control. The situation still wasn't great, but at least things seemed better than they were minutes ago.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Eventually, when it was back to a semblance of normality, the boy continued onwards, walking about a hundred meters onward…until he froze at the sight of blue glow in the distance.

' _What? But Matou is…is this his base camp?'_

He zoomed in on the scene, but couldn't get a good visual, so he crept closer and closer, until he could make out a cauldron bubbling merrily away above a bed of blue flames at the base of a tree, with ofuda ringing the area.

Harry felt like laughing as the pieces came together. So Matou had gone looking for him, but had left his base camp undefended? Why?

' _Probably because this a complex potion that needs some time to simmer…'_

Which meant that if he destroyed it, his rival would no doubt be set back considerably. Why, Shinji might not even have a potion at the end of this, which would be a shame indeed – but would guarantee Harry's victory if he managed to brew something as simple as a cure for boils.

Suppressing a smirk, Harry sent an ofuda to blow up the cauldron and ruin the mixture, bracing himself for the eruption as—

 _ **BOOM!**_

—the world went white.

When Harry became aware of the world again, all he knew was that it hurt – hurt all over. What…had happened? All he could hear was ringing, with his body going rigid and stiff as the rain came down on his face.

It felt…cold, as if…

' _Ice…? What…?'_

He couldn't move. Could barely breathe, as more and more of his body went rigid. There was an ofuda on him – no, on his invisibility cloak, with ice sealing him to the ground, growing thicker and thicker as the rain fell down.

' _No…what?'_

But it was getting hard to think. Even breathing became difficult as black spots appeared in his vision. He was…he was…

And then the world faded away as everything went dark.

* * *

Matou Shinji smiled as Snape's portkey activated its emergency functions, causing Harry to vanish from within the dome of ice, whisking him away to the Hospital Wing and leaving him the last Potioneer standing.

Everything had gone according to plan. Harry had been herded to and fro, with Zelkova driving him along at a frenzied pace until Shinji's potion was about ready to be detonated.

…for what he'd brewed in that cauldron was an Exploding Potion – something he knew how to make quite well by now, thanks to Hermione and Sokaris. And when the Boy-Who-Lived had sent out an ofuda to destroy the volatile mixture, well…

The explosion had been much greater than Harry had anticipated, the sheer force of it slamming the Heir of Slytherin into the ground and stunning him, allowing Shinji – who had pinpointed his location the moment he stepped into the clearing, to trap him with one of his water-based _ofuda_ , with layers of ice forming over the unbreakable Cloak of Invisibility while Harry was unable to move.

' _And all that remains now,'_ he thought to himself, retrieving another collapsible cauldron from his kit, _'is to brew another.'_

* * *

When dawn came, Matou Shinji found himself vanishing from the forest and reappearing before a tired-looking Severus Snape, whose eyes seemed curious, if somewhat…resigned.

"Have you brewed a potion, Mister Matou?" the Potions Master inquired.

Wordlessly, the boy from the east handed over an acid-green vial, with Professor Snape frowning as he examined it.

"…Exploding Potion, Mister Matou?" the man asked dryly. "A rather simple concoction, all things considered. Nothing more complicated for this final challenge of the year?"

"With due respect sir, I didn't need anything more complicated," Shinji replied. "Not with my only competition in the Hospital Wing."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the boy's statement, but nodded.

"I suppose if you have managed to disable my protégé, and brew a better potion than he managed, then I have no choice but to confirm you as Potions Champion of Hogwarts," the man allowed grudgingly. "And who is to be your second?"

"Why, Harry, of course."

"Very well, Mister Matou. Do make the travel arrangements. I will inform Mister Potter when he recovers from his defeat."


	44. Romeo and Juliet

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Chapter 44.** _Romeo and Juliet_

As she worked through her basic warmup exercises in her dressing room – exercises she'd done dozens of times before by now - Hermione Granger couldn't shake a sense of dread and fear. After all, in just over an hour, her swan song would begin.

' _Well, maybe not that.'_

After all, there would be plenty of plays and performances for her to take part in – things she would _have_ to take part in – when she started at the Wizarding Academy of the Dramatic Arts come autumn, though that would be in front of people who were starting out, like her, in front of strangers and others who shared her passion for the stuff of stories.

And for now, at least, her future peers at W.A.D.A. were the furthest thing from her mind, because until today, until the last day of the Hogwarts term, the notion that she'd probably never see her Hogwarts peers – and friends – again, hadn't quite seemed real.

She'd spent three years at Hogwarts, as a Ravenclaw, and in some ways, they had been the best years of her life.

In Sokaris and Matou, she'd found her first real friends.

In Professor Binns, she'd found a kindred spirit – an old soul who loved books and knowledge of the past – and who was willing to spend time talking about such things with her, treating her as an equal, not just a student who talked too much.

As a Consul and a member of the Ourea, she'd learned that her knowledge and skill could make her a leader, not just someone people used for help when it was convenient.

…and as an actress, she'd discovered something she not only loved, but was truly good at: stepping into a role and making a story come to life on stage.

Since she was a little girl, Hermione Granger had loved books and the insights that they provided for the world around her. History books, science books, books about other lands and other people, but most of all, stories. Tales of might and magic, tales of heroes and their deeds, tales of romance, adventure, tragedy – and more, each letting her live vicariously through the words printed on their pages, experiencing worlds that would otherwise never be.

…and then when she turned 11, she'd received her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts and discovered that magic was _real._

Going to Diagon Alley for the first time, seeing that an entire world existed– no, _thrived_ – hidden from everything else changed her life.

For if magic was real, if stories about hidden worlds and possibilities were real, if prophecies and child heroes who vanquished dark wizards were _real,_ didn't that mean that in a sense, her life would be like those of the stories?

That perhaps she might become a powerful enchantress if she studied long and hard enough – or perhaps meet a knight in shining armor, who might love her as she was – who might see _worth_ in a girl no one had ever really taken the time to befriend?

So she'd studied about the world she was about to enter, read book after book about what she could expect at Hogwarts, the rise and fall of Dark Magic, and so forth, and fortified with that knowledge, she'd believed herself prepared for anything.

…except that the moment she'd arrived, the designated hero of the world – the Boy-Who-Lived – had chosen to join Slytherin House, the house from which Lord Voldemort – the one whose reign he had ended – had come, as opposed to Gryffindor, the House of Dumbledore and most of the heroes who had fought the Dark Lord.

Given how well read she was, it seemed obvious that the reason the Boy-Who-Lived had made such a choice had been obvious: the machinations of Matou Shinji, the mysterious foreigner, the only one who'd applauded when Harry Potter had gone to Slytherin.

And so she'd chosen to confront Matou – to demand answers and expose him, as a proper heroine would.

Hermione chuckled ruefully as she thought back to that day, and how the boy had sealed her lips with his spell. She'd been very naïve back then, seeing things in black and white when there was no such thing, not really.

Sokaris' death…

When her friend died, it had opened her eyes to just how cruel even this hidden world could be, how the existence of something as wonderful as magic didn't mean there wouldn't be any suffering, though she thought that made no sense. With magic, surely there was no reason for conflict, right? No reason why people had to fight each other, be mean to each other, hurt each other – and yet…there were still Dark Wizards.

There were still bullies. There were still people who lied and cheated. People – even people in power – who cared only about themselves, as Professor Lockhart's lectures made clear time and time again. That year, she hadn't been prepared to go through that, hadn't been prepared to deal with how ruthlessly the man debunked myth after myth, forcing people to confront their deepest held beliefs about the way the world worked.

Then, she'd desperately wanted to believe that something about the world made sense, so she'd ended up clinging to the one person who she knew wouldn't hurt her, coming to think of the boy from the east as something like a knight. After all, he was a hero, and though she had embarrassed him, had thought badly of him, had hurt him so many times, he had still found time for her.

He'd asked after her, taken care of her, had depended on her as more than just some background character.

…in hindsight, it wasn't much of a surprise that she'd fallen in love with him, or that she'd taken his invitation to the Halloween Ball as a confession.

Being with Matou during those few months had been some of the happiest in her life, moments when she could forget all the losses she'd experienced, or that the world wasn't perfect, when she could _believe_ that the books she'd called her friends spoke the truth.

Until over the winter holiday, she'd found out that he didn't love her, and her world had shattered into a million pieces.

She'd almost died after – not because she'd wanted to end her life, but because she hadn't been thinking clearly and just wanted to get away from everything painful. She'd run away, as fast and far as her legs could carry her, until she had been able to run no more, and by that time it was too late to do anything else.

The girl who called herself Hermione Granger had survived due to Tomas' intervention, but her worldview hadn't.

That was why, when the term started again, she'd resigned from her position in the Ourea, and asked Professor Lockhart if there was anywhere she could go besides Hogwarts, somewhere where she could do something related to stories.

"Stories, you say," the man had said, an odd smile flitting across his lips. "As in acting and playing a role, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Well, there is always the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts, or W.A.D.A., as we call it," Professor Lockhart had noted. "It _is_ the premier institution for young wizards and witches in Britain who seek a career in performance. As it so happens, I know a number of its faculty members, and they are always looking for talented young witches – or wizards."

"Would I…be good enough?" she'd asked hesitantly. Hermione Granger knew that she was good with schoolwork, but she'd never even considered a career…as an actress before. Didn't even know what that entailed.

"Based on how you did as Amata, I believe so," the History Professor had replied. "While I am aware you are not overly fond of me, Miss Granger, I can see that we are not as dissimilar as you believe. Indeed, it is rare to find someone else as fond of stories as I am, and for someone with your passion for them, I think it only fitting that you go on to live them and share them with the world."

The young Ravenclaw had blinked, as she'd been unused to someone outside her family supporting her like this.

"But…"

"I admit that your portfolio up until now is a bit sparse, but that can be remedied easily enough. There is still time for one more play this year – one that can double as the last memory you leave behind and as the beginning of your new adventure," Lockhart had said warmly. "Under the circumstances, I think it would help you find a sense of closure as well."

"…why would you do that for me?" Hermione had wondered. This had been so at odds with her usual impression of how harsh Lockhart could be that it confused her. In her experience people _didn't_ just help each other for no reason at all. There was always something they wanted in return. Always.

But Lockhart had just shrugged.

"It takes courage to speak out about wanting to walk a different path, Miss Granger," the man had replied after about a minute. "Especially when everyone around you expects you to do something else." Lockhart had been silent for a moment as he regarded the girl thoughtfully. "You've seen something, gone through something that you can't forget, haven't you?"

"…yes, I have," Hermione had admitted slowly. "…you too, Professor?"

"To put it mildly, Miss Granger," had been Lockhart's answer. "Tell me…do you have any preferences on what to perform, or shall I choose one?"

"Erm… _Romeo and Juliet_?"

Lockhart had chuckled at her choice.

"Ah, the work of the Bard, is it?" But the Professor's face had soon grown more serious. "I presume you will not want Matou as your co-star?"

"Ah…I…no. I can't…"

"Understood, Miss Granger."

That had been months ago now, and since then, she'd learned the lines of Juliet faithfully, with she and her fellow cast members rehearsing on least a weekly basis and getting to know each other's quirks and foibles.

Draco Malfoy, for instance, had a stubborn insistence on never breaking character during rehearsals, claiming that it was only as Romeo that he could stomach being around Juliet, and that it wasn't as if he enjoyed spending his time with Granger, or at all saw her as an equal. The things he did, the affection he showed – it was only because the role demanded it of him.

Cedric Diggory had been a bit more laid back, more willing to joke and ask questions – but then it wasn't as if he had many lines as Count Paris.

Neville Longbottom, as the good Friar Laurence, had been terrified that Lockhart would actually require him to brew the Draught of Living Death onstage, though the History Professor had assuaged his fears, telling him the potion could be brewed ahead of time – whereupon Neville had asked Fay (the Apothecary) to make it, as he didn't want to poison anyone in public.

Cho had taken offense that her character, the nurse, was described as ancient and a fool, with a few of the offending lines changed.

But almost all of them had been pleased when Lockhart had led them through a bit of fight choreography, where they'd learned the art of adding flash and panache to duels, as people needed to believe a fight was happening, and in a real duel, the action was often too fast to track. This had been for wizard duels, of course, since the History Professor hadn't been about to conjure swords and let his students slash at each other, as he didn't want to explain any unsavory accidents to Madam Pomfrey.

As a motley group they'd spent a great deal of time together, building the sets, rehearsing their scenes, eating together and more, letting Hermione feel a sense of camaraderie she hadn't known anywhere else.

It was because of her experience with this play that she had finally found herself comfortable with the idea that she could be one of those who shared stories with everyone else.

A storyteller. An actress. A performer.

Today was to be the first production, with quite a number of dignitaries in attendance, including Minister Fudge, Chief Warlock Malfoy, the faculty of W.A.D.A., and the friends and teachers she'd be leaving behind.

And why not? It was the first time such a play had been performed in Magical Britain, after all, and with Gilderoy Lockhart as its director, the school had even managed to sell quite a few tickets.

None of which made Hermione Granger any less nervous.

 _Knock-knock!_

"Come in," the brunette called out, as she fidgeted in her many-layered dress robes, looking at her reflection in the mirror. With her tangle of curls straightened out, she didn't look like the girl she was familiar with, the self she had been.

' _Who is it?'_

To her surprise, it was Gilderoy Lockhart, with the man dressed in opulent robes of black and gleaming gold – appropriate for the role of the Prince.

She supposed he'd come to check on her before the performance, to be sure that the star of the show hadn't completely succumbed to her nerves.

"Ready for your big moment, Miss Granger?" the man asked with a genial smile.

"I…I don't know, Professor," Hermione replied, biting her lip. "It's just, with all the people who will be watching, and…"

She trailed off.

"Forget about them, Miss Granger," Lockhart advised. "Today – this play – all of this, it's not about them. It's about you and what you have to share with the world."

"I understand that, sir, but…"

"It's what you're leaving behind," the History Professor filled in, his voice more gentle. "Or rather, _who_ you're leaving behind."

"…yes," the girl admitted. "This place has many memories for me. Some good, some bad, but all of them precious in their own way. I don't think…even when I move on, I won't forget them, even if I wish I could. Sometimes."

"Memories are some of the most precious things we have, Miss Granger," Lockhart mused aloud. "What we've seen, what we've done – they make us who we are, good and bad. Now, I won't say that there is a happy ending to everything, because you and I both know better than that. But with each ending, there is a beginning, isn't there?"

"…you're right, Professor. Even if I wish you weren't sometimes."

"Do you know, Miss Granger, I wish the same myself." The man chuckled quietly, as he shook his head. "You're a good student, and I think you'll do well, even if this isn't exactly what you imagined you'd become when you came into this world."

"It really isn't."

"All the same, it's the only role where you can be a hero, a villain, or anything in between, letting you live out the stories you so love. I think there is a certain value in that."

"I hope so. Just as I hope everyone will understand."

"You have your own path, and they have theirs. Hold your head high, and remember, whatever happens, the show must go on. Fifteen minutes, and the curtain will rise, Miss Granger."

"I'll be ready."

"Mm," the man murmured, bowing to her. "Before I forget, Hermione Granger, or should I say, Juliet of Capulet?"

"Yes?"

"It has been an honor."

And with that the man was gone, with Hermione steadying herself and taking a few deep breaths as she moved to the green room where her other cast members were waiting.

"It's your big day," Cedric said boisterously, eyes lighting up as he saw her. "Are you ready?"

"If I'm not, well, we'll soon know, won't we?" Hermione asked, as through the open door of the room, the first lines of the play could be heard:

" _Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene."_

* * *

It was hardly the first time that the Boy-Who-Lived – along with the others who had been raised in the Muggle world – had heard of _Romeo and Juliet_ of course, with some of them wondering just what Gilderoy Lockhart was up to. But then they'd never seen a version of the play quite like this, if they'd seen any version at all.

Not with wizard duels taking the place of far more mundane weapons, with potions they knew were real, or with Draco Malfoy – a pureblood – as Romeo professing his love for a Muggleborn Juliet.

In setting of the Great Hall, the ancient language of Shakespeare came to life, with the students, faculty and guests sitting spellbound as they watched the tragic tale of star-crossed lovers play out in the two hours' traffic of the stage.

The scheming. The feuds. The secrecy and desperation with which the lovers sought one another, only to be foiled by exile, by miscommunication, by circumstance after circumstance until the very end, when they came together in death.

" _A glooming peace this morning with it brings. / The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head,"_ Lockhart said in the end, standing alone as the lights dimmer. _"For never was a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."_

Harry was the first to his feet, clapping as tears rolled down his cheeks, followed by Luna, Shinji, and the other Stone Cutters, the Ourea, and then all the rest as the cast came out for curtain call, one by one taking their bows, one by one having their moment in the limelight.

For a story of love, of war, of tragedy before peace was one he knew well – one he imagined they all did, and this ancient tale resonated with him, as the Bard's work still did for many to this day.

Yet for the Boy-Who-Lived, there would be one more surprise for the year, when the Potions Master called Harry to his office, with the Heir of Slytherin wondering what it would be about.

"Sit," the man directed, and Harry had. "You've had an eventful year, Mister Potter. Even if you failed to become Potions Champion after all my tutelage."

Harry winced at the reminder of his failure, and of that terrible night when Matou had taken up arms against him.

"I…I tried my best, Professor," he began, but trailed off. Whatever his excuse, it wouldn't be good enough – Snape only liked perfection, after all, and what justification did he have for failure after all was said and done.

Severus Snape was silent for a moment as he studied the boy who he had spent so much time teaching.

"Frankly, I had not thought anyone from Hogwarts would be…competent enough for the Wizarding Schools Potions Competition," the man said after a time. "Even with the combination of Potions and Herbology, there are far too many dunderheads to deal with. But as I have been reminded, that is only to be…expected with…teenagers."

Harry said nothing, sensing his Head of House was not quite finished.

"To my surprise, Potter, there were two," Snape continued. "Perhaps more than two. So perhaps, against all odds, you have all learned _something_ during my time at Hogwarts."

"I…"

"You have performed…competently, Potter," the Potions Master noted, shaking his head. "Despite your irrational spate of glory seeking with the Acromantula colony, I cannot fault your brewing skills. Should you be required to take the mantle of Champion, I must advise you to continue developing your combat abilities. Perhaps next year's Defense instructor will be useful for that, as Professor Slughorn, while a passable Potioneer, is not shall we say…the best duelist."

"Professor Slughorn?" Harry repeated, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Aren't you the Potions Master at Hogwarts?"

"Not after today, Potter," Snape grunted. "Appointing a Champion and overseeing this last batch of N.E.W.T.s was my last duty as a Professor. Suffice it to say…I will not miss this."

"But…why?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked. It seemed so odd that Professor Snape would leave, especially with the Competition next year.

"I can't tell you the details, Potter, so don't ask," Snape drawled. "But it has to do with the struggle against the Dark Lord."

"I see."

"You may be the child of prophecy, marked as His equal, but there are tasks remaining for those of us who took up the fight long before you were born." _'Those of us with sins a plenty to repent and make up for.'_

Rummaging around his deck, Professor Snape handed Harry his old copy of _Advanced Potions-Making_ , marked on the back cover with _"This Book is the Property of the Half-Blooded Prince."_

"Sir…?"

"As this is likely the last time we will see each other, Potter, this is my last gift to you. Make of it what you will," the man said quietly. "Matou will have the _Book of Potions."_

"Sir...where you're going…it will be dangerous, won't it?" Harry asked.

Snape just shot the Boy-Who-Lived a _look._

"And if it is, Potter?" he drawled.

"Take this," Harry answered, opening his satchel and removing Cloak of Invisibility – the third of the Deathly Hallows and his family heirloom. "I think you'll need it more than I do."

He placed on Snape's desk, with the Professor trying – but failing – to mask the surprise on his face.

"Mister Potter." The Potions Master's voice was very soft indeed, his cold black eyes staring into Harry's green as he tried to understand _why_. "Do you realize what it is that you wish to give me?"

"The Cloak of Invisibility, sir – Death's Cloak," the boy replied. "One of the three Deathly Hallows."

"And you are…giving it to me?" the man said incredulously. "Potter, have you lost your wits?"

"Sir, with all due respect, I've lost enough people because of Voldemort," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, his voice just a bit unsteady. "My mother. My father. Sokaris. I don't want to lose you as well, sir."

The boy's words shook Severus Snape to his core, as he never imagined the boy – or anyone, really – would say that to him.

"You…" the Potions Master began, swallowing. "I hope your future will be a happy one, Potter. For your mother's sake. And mine. Now go."

Sensing the dismissal, Harry nodded and rose.

"Goodbye, Professor. It's been an honor," he said.

And then he was gone, leaving the Master of Death behind as another year closed.


	45. Words Drowned by Fireworks

_**Matou Shinji and the Master of Death**_

A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story

Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.

Summary: In the wake of Dumbledore's death, Lucius Malfoy has become the most powerful man in Magical Britain. Hogwarts undergoes reforms under the rule of Headmaster Flitwick. Severus Snape learns that some wrongs cannot be set right. And driven onwards by eerie dreams of shadow and flame, Matou Shinji walks the path of destruction.

* * *

 **Epilogue** **.** _Words Drowned by Fireworks_

"When I think of everything that happened this year," Matou Shinji mused aloud, reflecting on all that had transpired, "all I can really say is that I am fortunate to be alive."

For the Matou scion, this year, more than any other in his life, had taught him how a magus walked with death – and he wasn't even a magus, practically speaking. From his clash with the _onikuma_ in Hokkaido _,_ to a deranged Ministry official trying to kill his entire history class to cover up the exposure of her hidden past, to his encounters with Acromantulae in the tunnels below the forest and the raid itself, there had been moments when he wondered if he would survive.

He'd survived them, but he'd also been reminded that however much he had grown, there were those still beyond him, as well as those he owed a great deal to.

Sajyou-san, for putting up with him during the expedition to Hokkaido, despite his rashness, his obvious inexperience with being out in the wilderness, and his insecurity.

Luna, for watching over him as he recovered from his near-death experience with the _onikuma,_ for sharing her prana with him so that he _could_ recover in the first place, and for her actions during the spider raid, where she had put the survival of the Stone Cutters over her own, releasing her power in a cataclysmic blast that left herself helpless. If she'd died…

'… _well, I suppose I understand how Harry feels about what happened to Sokaris now. Especially since he doesn't know that Sion lived.'_

It wasn't as if Shinji could tell him, given that the Director of Atlas had extracted a geas from him not to reveal what had truly transpired without her permission. And in some ways Shinji wasn't even sure he wanted to tell Harry, since he treasured the fact that Sion had chosen to tell him – and him alone – the truth, and how special it made him feel. If someone else knew…

Shinji shook his head.

Of course, he owed his life – and the life of his comrades – to Gilderoy Lockhart as well, a man who he was certain was a member of the Order of Assassins. Without the man's brutal but effective intervention against Umbridge, he and his class would have died. Without Lockhart's involvement in the spider raid, all of his comrades would be dead.

For that matter, he owed his victory over Harry in part to the training he'd received from the man.

…though not as much as he owed his familiar, the _kodama_ who styled himself Zelkova.

Matou Shinji might be many things. He might be proud of what he had accomplished, yet desperate to prove himself to his family, and to the one he was loyal to above all others, but no one had ever accused him of being stupid.

Except for the worthless man who had called himself his _father,_ and that had not been a comment on his intellect as much as the fact that he was not a magus.

So he knew that without Zelkova, the events of the year would have turned out very differently. Without his familiar, he would have been merely above average at Snape's Potions-Herbology challenges, with no chance at the claiming the title of Hogwarts Potions Champion. Without his familiar, he wouldn't have become proficient in using the element of earth, and he wouldn't have learned of fusion.

Without his familiar, well, it was quite likely he would be dead.

' _I need to do something nice for Zelkova after relying on him so much last year…'_

He'd get around to that sometime. For now though, the _kodama_ was taking a well-deserved rest, communing with Matsuo-san, and through her, the Great Tree of _Mahoutokoro_ on this night of Tanabata.

"And to have accomplished what you set out to do, Matou Shinji," the yukata-clad figure of Sion Eltnam Atlasia murmured as she looked into the distance, her half-covered face taking note of all the people celebrating in the city below. "As I was during the time I spent at Hogwarts. All in all, an eventful year."

"Indeed," Shinji said as he looked down, not sure what to say. "I became the potions champion of Hogwarts, you know."

"So Aozaki Touko informed me," the alchemist noted softly. "You will be journeying to the Isle of Thule next year, then?"

"…yes," the Matou scion admitted. "Though I don't really know what to expect there. Not when I will be facing the chosen representatives of each magical school and I don't know what they're capable of."

Well, that wasn't exactly true. He knew that Sajyou-san was quite capable of trouncing him in both the arts of brewing and combat, as she'd _taught_ him a good deal about herblore, cooking, and using yin. And while fusion form _might_ make a difference in a match against her, he was less than certain of that, given the nature of her familiar – the aptly named Yatagarasu – and the fact that she was Kaiduka'schosen apprentice.

' _And somehow, I doubt the_ kitsune _who is one of the powers behind Mahoutokoro_ _would have taken her as an apprentice if she wasn't capable.'_

"Traditionally, alchemists of Atlas do not engage in combat unless there is a way to predict a future with some probability of victory," the Director half-chided, her eyes betraying nothing. "Though I suppose you are not an alchemist yet, Matou Shinji."

"…no. I am not, admittedly," Shinji replied wryly. "That's why I can take…calculated risks as I have."

The Alchemist of Atlas turned to regard the boy with her deep purple eyes, the sheer intensity of her gaze forcing him to take a step back.

"There is a difference between a calculated risk and foolhardy recklessness, Matou Shinji," Sokaris said after a moment, her words utterly void of emotion. "A difference that I believe you have yet to learn, because of your successes, as improbable as some have been."

Shinji winced, as there was…more than a hint of truth in what his patron said.

"I am becoming aware of that…" the boy noted softly, his jaw tightening as he thought back upon the year behind him.

"Your Assassin mentor knows the difference well," the Alchemist continued. "Such is the reason for what he calls the _Kobayashi Maru,_ for though we of the Moonlit World walk with death, we do not rush to meet it."

"…you have a point, Director," Shinji admitted, bowing his head.

The two were silent for a moment, before Sion Eltnam Atlasia spoke once again.

"Your comrades are carousing in the city below," she observed quietly. "Enjoying the wonders of a place far different from the world where they were born."

"They are," the Matou scion murmured, shaking his head. "Was I like that when I came to Hogwarts, I—"

"Yes."

Glancing towards the young woman standing beside him, the one who had met him each of these last three _Tanabata_ s, Matou Shinji _thought_ he saw what might have been a smile cross her lips, though if I was, it was gone once he focused on her.

"Yes, you were," the Alchemist repeated, shaking her head. "As you were here, from what your Master tells me."

"...I was, yes."

It had only been three years ago, yet it seemed like a small eternity since Aozaki Touko had taken him to _Mahoutokoro_ for the first time, with the great tree above opening to allow him passage into the City Beneath the Earth. That, even more than the acceptance letter from Hogwarts, had been the beginning of everything, when he'd started down this path at the boundary of two different worlds.

"Unsurprising," Sokaris uttered, that single word fraught with more meaning than Shinji could unravel. But then, in some ways, his patron had always been a mystery to him, which he supposed was simply the way of things.

"Speaking of Harry and the others..." Matou Shinji hazarded, "would you like to meet them? Again, I mean."

"No." The reply came almost at once, startling the boy. "No," the Alchemist repeated, softly, but firmly. "Neither as Sokaris nor as an Alchemist."

"…but why?"

"Because I do not want to drag them into our world," Sokaris answered, almost gently. "You forget who I am, Matou Shinji, and that as Director of Atlas, my actions carry a weight most do not. Officially, no branch of the Association has formally recognized any of the organizations of the East. So if I were to be seen and recognized, with my presence interpreted as a state visit…"

"Ah. I suppose that could get…complicated," the boy allowed. He'd be the first to admit that he was a rank novice at the great game of politics beyond how it played out in schools and playgrounds. And he'd never shouldered the responsibilities that his patron clearly had.

"Quite," the Alchemist quipped. "Our world aside however, it is better that your comrades believe Sialim Sokaris to be dead."

The woman's words struck Shinji like a blow, his eyes bulging as he processed them – and found himself uncomprehending.

"…why?" Shinji's voice was a feeble thing. "I would think they'd be overjoyed to know you survived. Harry, especially…"

"And then what?" she asked. Unsurprisingly, the Matou scion had not thought that far, but he was still young and did not have much experience with long-term plots and machinations. There was a long way to go before he would be a proper Alchemist, if ever. "Assuming they learned that I lived and that I had not revealed myself to them earlier, what would they then conclude, Matou, when the initial joy had passed?"

"…probably that you used them to steal the Philosopher's Stone," the boy conceded. "And that everything they knew about you was a lie."

"I would spare them that, Matou Shinji," the Alchemist said with surprising compassion. "To them, Sokaris was a comrade, a fellow student who challenged their expectations with unusual gifts, who fought by their side despite having fears – demons – of her own. And from what you have said, Sokaris' death – my death – inspired your comrades to become better people, better users of witchcraft, better leaders. How much of that would be lost if they learned the truth?"

"You have a point..." Shinji admitted grudgingly.

"You already knew – or suspected – I was more than I seemed, because of our heritage from the moonlit world," Sion continued, shaking her head. "Your comrades did not – and do not, now."

"…you're protecting them," he saw, understanding at last.

"Indeed, Matou Shinji. As I have said, they have troubles enough without learning of our world," Sokaris noted quietly. "Especially the boy called Harry Potter. It is a terrible thing to carry all the hope and expectation of a people, is it not?"

"…I wouldn't know." Shinji bit his lip. "It's hard enough living up to your expectations sometimes," he joked, only for the Alchemist to look at him reprovingly. "…well, and Master's and those of others," he added sheepishly. "At least…I hope I have."

Once again silence fell over the two, with the Director of Atlas watching the city far below one of _Mahoutokoro_ 's great bridges, and Matou Shinji watching _her_ , nervous beyond words at what she would say.

"You have," the purple-haired woman said after a time. "Certainly, I am…grateful for your assistance in acquiring the services of a new Vice-Director."

"You could have told me, you know," the boy replied quietly.

"It was better that I did not," the young woman responded, turning to look at the boy she called a friend. "That way, you would not be compromised by concerns over the Einzbern family's likely reaction."

"I…I would have helped you even so." Shinji's statement was firm. "I said once that even if it cost me everything, I would be your ally."

"So you have said. Even so, when you spoke to Illyasviel, your words were more powerful coming only from a place of concern for her, rather than…other interests. Even mine," the Alchemist explained.

"True enough. It's just…it was a bit of a surprise," Shinji said weakly – which was, if anything, an understatement to how he'd felt when he and Illyasviel had arrived at the terminal only to encounter the Director of Atlas.

"Of that I am aware. But it was necessary, Matou Shinji."

"As you say, Sokaris." The boy shook his head, sighing. "Any thoughts on everything else I've mentioned?"

"Only that it seems you have been learning much from Gilderoy Lockhart," the young woman replied. "Even if you have not officially become his apprentice. And that whatever you may have experienced, the next few years will likely test and try you more than you can currently imagine."

Shinji swallowed.

"I see."

"No…you do not," Sokaris commented. "But you will, Matou Shinji. As you yourself will note, you have made a rather powerful enemy in the Einzbern family, and soon you will move from the stage of Hogwarts to one where the world watches."

"…you mean the Isle of Thule," Shinji realized, shaking his head. "I know it is a remnant of a past age, and that the Potions Competition is a major event for the Wizarding World, but…is it really such a grand thing?"

Britain, for instance, made a big fuss over the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but the Matou scion couldn't realistically see that being important to anyone but the three schools involved, much less being something that would grant "eternal glory" to the winner.

"It is and it is not," Sokaris replied enigmatically. "It is an opportunity to create something new, but for you, Matou, it is also a test."

"A…test?" the boy asked.

"Indeed. While you were born into a family of magi, there is still much you do not truly grasp of the realities and hardships of our world," the Alchemist explained. "You know of them intellectually, distantly, yet you do not truly understand them. But you will."

"I see," Shinji said quietly. "I suppose you're probably right. I'll do what I can at the competition."

"Indeed. Do what you can. Win, if possible. Test your limits. Grow – but live," the Alchemist all but commanded, and boy bowed low.

"As you wish, Sokaris."

From Sokaris' lips issued a sound that bore a passing resemblance to a chuckle.

"It has been an eventful three years, hasn't it, Matou Shinji?" she asked, withdrawing a small vial of silver liquid from her yukata.

"It has," he acknowledged. "Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here. Each year seems more dangerous than the next, and if what you are saying is true…"

He shook his head.

"…there is something else you should know, Matou Shinji," the Alchemist said, as she offered the vial to her companion. The boy took it, his fingers brushing hers as he did, though raised an eyebrow as he peered into it, finding it like no potion he had ever seen before.

"What's this?"

"One dose of the Water of Life. Enough to cure any injury or any illness. Even death and vampirism," the Director of Atlas replied gravely. "With the enemies you have made in my service Matou, I suspect you may need such a thing soon enough."

Shinji's eyes widened in shock, his body trembling as he almost dropped the legendary potion.

"This is…," the boy swallowed, his mouth going dry as he considered what was in his hands. Unwittingly, he tried to give it back, only for the Alchemist to shake her head. "No, I…this is too much. Sokaris…no, Director, you…"

"Consider it a token of my gratitude for helping Atlas find a talented Vice-Director, among other things," Sion Eltnam Atlasia replied evenly. "Even if Isis has had to spend an inordinate amount of time keeping her away from our arsenal for now."

Shinji winced at the image of Illyasviel having access to Atlas' grand arsenal, the great storehouse of weapons and tools which were said to be able to destroy the world seven times over. The truth was, he could see the young girl unleashing some terrible implement of destruction if enraged or disgruntled, so perhaps it was for the best she was being kept away from such things.

For now.

"Then I thank you, and I hope there is some way I can repay you, in time," the Matou scion said with a deep bow, pocketing the vial with the utmost care. "I hope the rest of your ventures proceed to your satisfaction."

"They are proceeding according to my calculations, yes," she affirmed, but said no more about her business. "There is something you should know, Matou Shinji."

"Oh?"

"From Illyasviel's debriefing, the Einzbern believe that the Grail War will come earlier than expected," the Director of Atlas intoned. "Be wary lest you be caught unawares."

"…if any Matou is caught up in that, it will likely be my… _sister,"_ the boy replied distastefully. Less distastefully than he might have said several years ago, but all the same… "That's…that's not really my affair."

"Even so, the Einzbern no doubt will hold a special hatred for you, given what you have done," Sion warned, shaking her head. "Do not take their displeasure lightly."

"…I know," Shinji said quietly. "And thank you, for the warning."

The corners of the Alchemist's lips twitched upwards ever so slightly as she looked over towards the center of the city.

"I think we have talked enough of business, Matou Shinji," she noted with the barest hint of a smile. "And it occurs to me that despite the gala being held in my honor, I never had a chance to dance."

"Oh?" Shinji inquired, before a warm smile stole over his lips as he realized what his patron was implying. "Well then, we can't have that, now can we, Director?"

"Indeed," the young woman noted. "Perhaps I should remedy that before I return to my duties."

Shinji just chuckled, and bowed gallantly as he extended his hand to the Alchemist.

"In that case, Sokaris, would you give me the honor of a dance?"

And for that night, she did.

Whatever else they might have said, whatever else they might have meant to say, there were no more words between then and dawn, as they moved together under a brilliant night sky, their words and feelings drowned out by the fireworks above.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson had thought herself beyond surprises, yet from the moment she'd heard that Gilderoy Lockhart had chosen her to be trained as an adventurer, her life had been filled with one surprise after the next.

From his lessons in the Art of Movement and his explanations of how difficult the life of an adventurer could be, to the trip they'd taken to Diagon Alley, where she'd been outfitted with a _dragonhide robe_ identical to those worn by the Stone Cutters, the man had casually managed to surprise her time and time again.

She had known he was a very good student – and teacher – of history, and that Lockhart had survived through any number of adventures, and so had thought herself prepared for whatever he had to show her, but even so, she hadn't anticipated just how _much_ her life would change.

Or that his first lessons that summer would involve familiarizing herself with the Muggle world.

With telephones.

With the Tube - sometimes called the subway.

With how to use British Pounds, the general prices of things in the Muggle world, and where one could find them.

Her first time in Harrods, something Lockhart had called a department store, had shocked her beyond her wits – for why would anyone need so much in the way of goods? His reply, that the shop supplied millions of people, had boggled her even more.

Millions of people in _one city_.

In all of Magical Britain, there were only a little more than _ten thousand_ witches and wizards – the same number that worked for this one department store.

It had been…a humbling experience, especially when she'd found out that there were 58 _million_ people in Britain as a whole.

More than there were wizards in the entire world.

Up till that moment, Pansy Parkinson had always entertained the thought that she and her peers were special. Interesting. Unique. That their society at least had a claim to being somewhat enlightened, even with all of its problems. How it could be otherwise, with magic? Besides, Muggles didn't have anything that could be a match for a wand, did they?

But as she wandered through the muggle world, examining exhibits in the British Museum, looking through the histories the muggles kept of the time after the Statute of Secrecy, with Lockhart as a guide to explain the details, she realized that wasn't true.

That they had built up a civilization – a world – without the need for magic.

And that the man who she idolized as Britain's greatest adventurer knew both intimately.

"…you were born in…in this world, weren't you?" she'd asked him one day.

"I was," he'd replied. "I am, as you know, a half-blood. But you should know that, Miss Parkinson, that's in my autobiography."

"Professor, you were the one who taught to question sources, and to see with our own eyes."

"True. It's good to see some of my lessons were taken to heart."

After that, he'd taught her how to survive in the wilderness without the benefit of a wand, potions, or magic in general, using a compass, a map, a knife, and good hiking boots. He'd shown her how to use a headlamp and the other gear involved with potholing – alternately known as caving or spelunking – which he said was necessary, as well as how to properly lift things – something she'd never even considered, given that there was always the levitation charm to rely on.

And now, she found herself sitting beside Lockhart in the first class section of he'd called an aeroplane, sipping on orange juice to calm her nerves.

"Can this thing…really fly?" she asked the man, feeling more than a touch anxious.

There was no magic in it she could sense, unlike a broom. To her, this whole contraption with hundreds of people aboard was…something strange and utterly alien.

"Of course it can, Miss Parkinson," Gilderoy Lockhart had replied with one of his winning smiles. "But then, I can see how one might have doubts. It is a bit tubby and made of metal, isn't it?"

"…yeah. It doesn't look…" '… _light enough,'_ she wanted to say. Well, she actually wanted to say it looked as if it would fall out of the sky, but she didn't want the man to laugh at her.

"I know. It was my first time too, once, and I was just as worried as you were."

"…with all due respect, I find that a little hard to picture, sir," Pansy quipped, her mind unable to quite grasp the thought of a nervous Lockhart. "How did you…?"

"My mentor at the time told me to look out the window and breathe," the man said quietly. "To watch the world falling away under me as we lifted off. To put aside what I thought, and trust in what _was_ , in what could be. Perhaps you could give that a try?"

"Alright…" the girl said hesitantly. It wasn't the first leap of faith she'd taken this summer, and she doubted it would be the last.

Sometime later, the cabin door was sealed, and the plane pulled back from the gate, taxiing to the runway, where it accelerated, hurtling faster, and faster, and faster along until she thought they were going to crash.

Pansy Parkinson squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it would all be over quickly, but then she felt a lurch, as the plane tilted up and she was pressed into her seat.

She opened her eyes to see the world she knew fall away below her, shrinking and shrinking as the plane ascending slowly but surely towards the heavens, rising towards the clouds.

"I'm flying…" she whispered, unable to believe it. She'd trusted everything the Professor had said, but until the plane had taken off, this was… "I'm really flying." They broke through the clouds, emerging into the brilliant sun above, and as she looked out onto the magnificent vista of the unending layer of white below her, a feeling of utter joy filled her as she realized that at long last she was leaving the land of her birth, as she'd wanted all her life. "…away."


End file.
